Prologue

These are the End Days.

The time at which the defenders fall, and the Wyrm rears up to breathe
His corruption down upon the Earth.

Have we not already seen the signs? The Wyrm's minions, spreading out
over the face of Gaia. She groans, under the weight of their
desecrations, and under the teeming throngs of Humanity. Already we
have seen countless Leeches spawned, skulking through the night,
passing their corruption on to Human hosts.

And we are too few.

Black death spreads out across Her oceans; cold machines tear at Her
flesh. Dark asphalt suffocates Her, and cities rise like scabs on Her
body.

These are the Days of Apocalypse.

The young woman sighed softly, and closed the book. Movement caught
her eye, then, and she looked up to see her mentor entering the room.
"Athro," she said, using the archaic term for 'teacher', "what can I
do to aid you?"

The old man looked down at her proudly. "The time has come for you
and I to part ways for awhile." At her shocked look, he continued
quickly. "You have been a fine Adren, an excellent student. But I
have been communicating with the spirit of Unicorn, and we have agreed
that there is a task you must perform."

"Task, Athro?" She was saddened by the thought of leaving her teacher,
but the idea of performing a task on behalf of Gaia thrilled her.
"What task?"

He smiled at her enthusiasm. "There is a city to the south of here
called Sunnydale. We believe there to be one or more Lost Cubs in the
area. In addition, the place is a haven for Wyrm activity. I suspect
you will not find it a boring place."

The woman only grinned in response.

She could feel herself running, feet pounding hard against the forest
floor. The woods were eerily silent; she could no longer hear any of
the birds and small nocturnal animals that normally filled the forest
with life. She ran through the deep wood as if she belonged; not one
twig or branch was disturbed by her passing.

She ended up abruptly in a clearing, and skidded to a stop. In front
of her, two vampires grinned, moonlight reflecting in their eyes which
were dark chips of cold flint. She was surprised when, instead of
running _from_ the vampires, she leapt _toward_ them, her powerful
legs propelling her across the clearing. She watched as, mid leap,
her hands transformed. She felt her entire body shifting, growing,
and when she looked again her hands were great clawed things covered
with a thick layer of red fur.

She hit the vampire hard, her weight bringing him down easily. She
latched her muzzle -- muzzle? -- onto his neck, her sharp teeth easily
sinking into the flesh of his throat. With one savage motion, she
ripped the vampire's head from his shoulders, reducing the whole
creature to dust.

She rose to her feet, and turned to see the other vampire. She
towered over him now, easily eight or nine feet tall. She could feel
her tail swishing back and forth in an agitated manner. The vampire
paled, moreso, and began backing away in undisguised fear.

She leapt forward, faster than the vampire could react. One swipe of
her razor-sharp talons later, and the vampire was left nothing more
than dust in the breeze.

The werewolf looked up into the night sky, noticing the full moon
shining down from far above. She let out a guttural howl, a challenge
full of rage and victory...

"Willow? Willow, wake up," Buffy said, shaking her friend out of her
fitful sleep.

"Wha...?" Willow sat up, brushing hair out of her eyes. She half
expected to see her hands covered with fur, but when she looked they
seemed the same as they ever were. "I'm sorry, Buffy, did I wake you
up?"

Buffy smiled at her friend. "That's ok, it was about time for me to
get up." She got up and went to her dresser, and started laying out
clothes. "What's the matter, did you have a nightmare?"

Willow frowned, and tried to remember her dream. "It wasn't a
nightmare, at least, I don't remember being scared. It was weird
though, I thought..." She trailed off, and looked at her hands again.
Nope, still normal.

"Thought what?"

"Well, I thought," Willow chuckled weakly, "I thought I was a
werewolf."

Buffy raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Bad Oz dream?" She asked. For
weeks after Oz left, Willow had had nightmares that Veruca had bit
her, had cursed her with the same affliction that turned her and Oz
into werewolves three nights a month.

Willow shook her head. "It wasn't like that...like those other
dreams," she replied. "I wasn't just a mindless killing machine. I
was focused." She shrugged, confused. "I dunno, it was probably
nothing..."

Buffy looked at her friend, concerned. "Will, tonight is the first
night of the full moon... Maybe... Maybe we should just take some
precautions?"

"I don't know..." Willow said. "I mean, I haven't been bitten or
scratched, I don't know why I would become a werewolf now. It was
probably nothing, just some weird dream."

Buffy nodded, satisfied by that. "Yeah, probably. Let me know if it
happens again, though, ok?" Willow nodded. The Slayer grabbed her
soap and shampoo, and headed off for the shower.

Willow ran a hand through her hair, and began getting her clothes
together for that day's classes. She wasn't tired; truth be told, she
was kind of energized. Ah well, she thought, pushing the dream from
her mind, probably too many horror movies before bed.

* * *

She padded slowly through the dark forest, moonlight filtering down
through the dense trees, lighting her path. She caught the scent of
something, some foul corruption in the air. She turned in the
direction of the scent, and began loping through the forest.

She made good time, travelling on all four paws as she did. She moved
with ease, her red-furred body an indistinguishable blur. Her ears
perked up, as she heard the sound of a scuffle coming from up ahead,
where the forest bordered on one of the many graveyards in the area.
The scent of death was almost overpowering now.

Padding to the edge of the forest, she looked out on a moonlit scene:
a slight, young blonde woman was backing up, surrounded by four
vampires who were advancing on her. The blonde stopped, and brought
her hands up in a fighting stance.

The wolf let out a low growl, lips curled back in a snarl revealing
sharp, white teeth. These corruptions, these abominations _dared_ to
threaten this beautiful, courageous young woman. She would not stand
for it. Feeling the rage build inside her, she felt her form
shifting, bones and muscles instantly reconfiguring themselves to
accommodate her larger, biped state. She watched as paws became
great, clawed hands; she stood, and noted how she towered over her
previous form, her powerful muscles bunching and unbunching in
agitation.

She took two steps into the graveyard, and let out a fierce howl of
challenge and outrage. Instantly all eyes were on her, vampire and
human alike. The vampires smiled, believing her to be one of their
corrupted demon allies, no doubt. The young woman's eyes shifted
nervously from the powerful eight-foot tall form to the vampires, and
back.

One swift movement later left no room for any doubt. The werewolf
sprang forward, sunk its powerful claws into the body of one vampire,
and tore its head off with one motion. The vampire dissolved into
dust, striking the remaining vampires with panic.

The young blonde didn't waste any of the time that the distraction
afforded her. With one smooth move, she kicked at one of the
vampires, sweeping his legs out from under him and punched downward,
driving her wooden stake into his chest.

One of the remaining two vampires pulled out a wicked knife, easily a
foot long, double bladed, and razor sharp. While the werewolf was
rising, recovering from her earlier kill, the vampire stepped forward
and drove the blade deep into its right side. The werewolf roared in
pain and back-handed the vampire, sending him flying head first into a
gravestone. She ripped the knife from her side, spraying the area
liberally with her blood. Pulling herself up to her full height, she
growled a challenge to the vampire, who was struggling to his feet.

The werewolf stepped forward, and grabbed the vampire around his
throat with one of her massive hands. Squeezing, she could hear the
bones in the vampire's neck pop as they gave way beneath her crushing
grip. The vampire struggled futilely in her grasp until finally she
took pity on him and removed his head from his shoulders with her
talons.

The blonde and the remaining vampire had been watching this exchange,
stunned by the beast's power. As the werewolf turned slowly to look
at the remaining vampire, the blonde took pity on him and quickly
drove her stake through his heart, reducing him instantly to dust.

The wolf looked down at the blonde, and something tugged at the back
of her mind. The woman seemed to be waiting for something, perhaps
waiting to see what the wolf would decide to do. The werewolf dropped
to all fours and willed herself to shift back to a wolf. The injury
in her side still dripped blood, but she knew instinctively that it
would soon heal of its own accord. No normal blade could threaten her
life.

The red-furred wolf loped off into the darkness, leaving the blonde
woman behind with her own thoughts.

* * *

Willow awoke with a start. Oh wow, she thought, bringing a shaking
hand up to her forehead, these dreams are really getting way out of
control. She looked over where Buffy was sleeping, and froze.
Buffy's bed was empty, and obviously had not been slept in. Willow's
throat went dry, and she immediately grabbed the phone and dialed
Giles' number.

"Hello?" Willow heard Giles' impeccable British accent on the other
end of the line.

"Hi Giles Buffy didn't come home last night and I'm worried about her
and I think something might have happened," Willow got out in a rush.

"Ah, Willow, Buffy's fine," Giles answered calmly. "She came over
late last night, and we've been researching a type of demon. Are you
free to help?"

Willow sagged with relief. "Uh, yeah, Giles, no problem. I'll take a
shower and be right over."

"Good, good, we'll see you soon then," Giles said.

Willow placed the phone back on the cradle. She got out of bed, and
started gathering her things to take with her to the shower. Hearing
that Buffy was safe had put her in an uncommonly good mood, and by the
time she entered the communal bathroom and started the shower running,
she was humming to herself.

She started to take off her pajamas -- and froze, as she noticed a
long, pale scar running along her right side.

* * *

Willow reached Giles' house in something of a daze. Her mind kept
running over the events of her "dream"; the sense of rage and power
she had gotten by shifting into the werewolf form had been palpable,
and intoxicating. For little Willow, regular kidnapee and hostage,
the thought that she might be able to turn into an eight foot killing
machine was mind-blowing.

All the same, she thought with a shudder, what if I can't control it?
What if I turn into a vicious animal like Oz? The thought that she
would have to be chained up or risk hurting her friends was almost too
much to bear.

She entered Giles' home, and saw her two friends deeply engrossed in
research. They looked up as she entered, Giles nodding his greetings
and Buffy's eyes lighting up on seeing her friend.

"Will! Sorry I didn't check in last night," Buffy said, sheepishly.
"I ran into something on patrol, and I wanted to tell Giles about it
ASAP."

Willow looked at Buffy, alarmed that she might have gotten hurt. "Are
you ok? What happened?"

"Well, it appears that Buffy ran into a demon last night, but one that
I've never seen made mention of," Giles said, removing his glasses and
rubbing the bridge of his nose. It didn't appear that either he or
Buffy had gotten much sleep the night before. "I asked you here in
part because you were the one that spent the most time with Oz, and
are the most experienced among us regarding werewolves."

Willow's heart sank. She absently rubbed her right side, not noticing
Buffy's eyes following her movement. "Um, yeah, what did you want to
know, Giles?"

"Well, whenever Oz...changed...did he ever change into anything
_other_ than his normal werewolf form?"

Willow shook her head, the sinking feeling still with her. "No, it
was all pretty much the same. Typical werewolf, I guess." She gave a
half-hearted smile.

"Hmm, I see," Giles answered, looking down at his book. "There are,
of course, lots of references to werewolves in these books, but
nothing like what Buffy saw last night."

Willow's eyes met Buffy's nervously. Feigning nonchalance, Willow
asked, "What did you see, Buffy?"

Still watching Willow closely, Buffy replied, "Well, I'd almost
believe it were a werewolf except for a couple of things." She
started ticking points off on her fingers. "First, it could change
shape at will; one minute it was a huge two-legged werewolf, and the
next it turned into a more normal looking wolf. Second, it lit into a
pack of vampires like a rat on a bag of cheetos, but when it had the
chance to turn me into ground beef it took off. Third, neither of its
shapes looked anything like Oz."

Giles nodded at her assessment. "I've found oblique references in one
of my books to several tribes of werewolves, but the information is
very sketchy. It appears that no one has really been able to gather
any information on these strange creatures. All we've been able to
determine is that they don't seem like the same werewolves of legend."
He flipped some pages in one of his books, and said, "This passage
leads me to believe there might be more information in a book called
the Tome of Val'Garon."

Willow looked around at her friends. It felt to her like she was
under intense scrutiny, that they were watching her every move. "Um,
I'll tell you what," she said, "you guys take a nap, get some rest.
I'll go to the magick shop in town, see if they have this Tome of
Val'Garon. They're under new management since the previous owner got
vamped, so maybe they have a better selection."

Giles nodded his agreement. "I think that's an excellent idea. Some
sleep might do us good." Buffy nodded as well, still watching Willow
with a concerned look.

"Ok, well, I'll see you guys..." It was all Willow could do not to run
out of there.

* * *

Willow entered the magick shop, now called "Dream of Gaia", and heard
a small door-chime announce her arrival. A rather striking young
woman with long, raven black hair looked up at her and smiled. She
was wearing a tie-die long sleeve shirt, and a multi-color, diaphanous
skirt.

"Welcome to Dream of Gaia. My name is Nichole. If there's anything I
can do to help you, please let me know." The woman had a pleasant
voice, and it helped soothe Willow. Suddenly her fears didn't seem
all that frightening.

Willow smiled back. Something about this young woman called to the
redhead, and she felt an immediate rapport. "Thanks, my name is
Willow."

"Willow?" The woman -- Nichole -- inquired. "That's a very pretty
name." She blushed a bit, and quickly continued, "Sorry, I just like
names that are nature-oriented. I'm kind of a tree-hugger."

Willow grinned in response. "That's fine, my parents were the
hippie-type."

"So were you looking for anything specific?"

"Well..." Willow thought about the book that Giles mentioned at their
last meeting. "Actually, do you have a copy of the Tome of
Val'Garon?"

Nichole nodded, and went into a back room. Moments later she emerged,
a small, slim hardback book in her hand.

"That's a tome? That's not a tome, that's more like a pamphlet,"
Willow remarked, incredulously. "I tell you, these dark powers are
all talk."

Nichole grinned, and said, "Yeah, with them it's all 'My tome is
bigger than your tome.'" She held out the book for Willow to look at.

As Willow took the book, their fingers brushed each other by just the
tiniest bit; all the same, a shock of recognition went sweeping
through her body, leaving her weak and confused. "Do I...do I know
you?" Willow stammered, puzzled.

Nichole looked at Willow closely, a piercing gaze that Willow found
impossible to turn away from. "You dream of the Wolf," she said. It
was not so much a question as a plain statement of fact.

"I...I don't know what you mean," Willow said, her eyes nervously
looking about the room.

"Your dreams. You dream of the wolf inside you, merging with you
until you are one." The young woman's intent stare, so different than
the easy, friendly looks she was giving earlier, made Willow feel
skittish.

"I had some dreams the last couple of nights," Willow swallowed
nervously. "Dreams that I was chasing vampires...And when the time
came to face them, I turned into a..." her voice dropped to a whisper.
"A werewolf."

Nichole nodded confidently, as if she were expecting this. "That's
not unusual," was her only reply.

Willow grew visibly agitated. "What's not unusual? How did you know
what I was dreaming? And why am I dreaming this?" Her voice broke.
"_Am_ I only dreaming this?"

The woman lay a hand on Willow's arm in a calming gesture. "It's not
unusual for a Lost Cub to have dreams like that. It is the Wolf
Inside...pushing for release."

"What do you mean?" Willow asked, fearfully. She looked down at her
hands, expecting them to sprout claws at any moment. "What am I?"

"You are Garou," Nichole answered, as if that explained everything.
"You are a werewolf."

Willow took a step back, unable to deal with what Nichole was telling
her. "No..." she said, weakly. "No, I..."

"You know it's true," Nichole said, softly. "Let me see if I
remember... You've been having dreams, dreams about travelling under
the moonlit sky, maybe running through a forest? And then recently,
something happened to make you suspect that it wasn't just a dream.
Maybe you woke up in the woods, or maybe you found mud on your shoes
that you couldn't explain."

She paused, but Willow remained silent. After a moment, Nichole
continued.

"I went through the same thing as you, Willow," Nichole gave her a
sympathetic look. "At first, I thought I was going insane. Luckily,
I was found by a wandering Garou before my parents had me committed.
He taught me what it meant to be a werewolf."

Willow shook her head. "But...I can't be a werewolf.
My...ex-boyfriend was a werewolf, and it was horrible...It was a
curse, he turned into such a mindless, savage animal..." She broke
off, eyes filling with tears.

The look of pure sympathy and understanding that Nichole gave Willow
almost broke her heart. The young woman went behind the counter and
retrieved a couple of tissues, handing them across to Willow. "Being
a werewolf is not a curse, although if the Cub does not receive
training, it is possible for them to be unable to control their
Change. It sounds as if your ex-boyfriend was never taught how to
release the Wolf."

Willow seized on the word "control" as if it were a lifeline. "What
do you mean? You mean I don't have to change? If I learn how to
control it..." She didn't dare finish the sentence.

"The Wolf is pure Rage," Nichole began. "At times near the full moon,
when inhibitions are lowered, the Rage comes to the surface and
demands expression. It sounds like your boyfriend held in the Rage,
and didn't allow himself to feel it. When the full moon came
around..." She spread her hands, as if to say, What do you expect?
"How did you feel after you had the dreams?"

Willow thought hard for a moment. "I felt...good. Energized, kinda."

Nichole smiled. "You allowed yourself the freedom to express the
Wolf's Rage." She walked around the counter to the front door, where
she placed the "Closed" sign in the window. Turning back to Willow,
she said, "Are you interested in learning how to control the Change?"

Willow chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. She couldn't deny that
what Nichole was saying struck a chord deep within her. As much as
she'd like to deny the fact that she was having these dreams, there
was just too much proof to the contrary. She decided that her best
bet, at least for the moment, was to learn as much as she could about
werewolves...er, Garou. And if it meant she could control herself...
"Ok, let's do it."

* * *

Buffy awoke from her nap and looked at the clock on the wall. The two
hours sleep she had gotten seemed to have done her some good. She sat
up, and ran a hand quickly through her hair.

Geez, two hours? She thought with some alarm. I wonder what happened
to Willow? She looked around Giles' home, but there was no sign that
the redhead had ever returned.

Buffy had had some misgivings about letting Willow go alone to the
magick shop. Not that she hadn't done it a hundred times before, but
this time was different. She seemed so nervous and confused, Buffy
thought. Something was bothering her, something I can't quite put my
finger on... Buffy thought about it for a moment, but her mind was
still a little fuzzy with sleep.

Writing a quick note for Giles, she took off in the direction of
downtown, and the magick shop.

* * *

Nichole led Willow to a back room which seemed to triple as a work
area, inventory room, and office. She cleared a space in the center
of the room, and motioned for Willow to take a seat.

"What do you know of werewolves?" Nichole asked.

"Well," Willow replied, "I really only know what we found out about
Oz... Apparently it was a curse, given to him when his cousin, who was
a werewolf, bit him."

"Ok, Myth number one," Nichole smiled. "Being a Garou is not a curse,
although I wouldn't call it a blessing either. It is not conveyed by
bite, or else we wouldn't be having the problems we do now." Willow
wondered what she meant, but Nichole continued. "The truth of it is,
being a Garou is in the blood. It runs in families, which the Garou
call Kinfolk. Since Oz's cousin was a werewolf, I'm not surprised
that he showed the same trait. Being Kinfolk does not automatically
mean you are Garou, but there is a chance."

Willow nodded. She was feeling more comfortable now that she was
hearing about all this in lecture. She could almost imagine that it
was Giles talking about some new kind of demon. Speaking of demons...

"So...so are Garou evil?" Willow asked, somewhat apprehensively. "I
mean, you don't seem evil, or like a demon or anything."

"No, I'm not evil," Nichole chuckled. "Werewolves are just like
people; some are better than others. Most fight for good, some fight
for evil, some fight only for themselves. What you do depends on who
you _are_.

"But I promised to teach you how to control the change. History
lessons can come later, I think; right now, I should help you control
the Change so that you won't take any unbidden nightly excursions."

Nichole took a couple of steps back, and concentrated for a moment.
Her form shimmered just the slightest bit, and before Willow knew it,
the young woman was Changing. She dropped to all fours, and Willow
watched as Nichole's hands reformed themselves into delicate paws; her
legs shrank and changed shape into wolves' legs. It was so unlike the
violent transformation that Oz used to go through under the full moon;
this was almost beautiful, and in some animistic sense, deeply
spiritual. Before she knew it, a black-furred wolf stood in front of
her, tail swishing happily.

Willow was so astonished by the transformation that she didn't realize
Nichole was talking to her at first. When she did realize it, she did
a double-take.

"How...You're a wolf! How come you're speaking English?"

The wolf's tongue lolled out in a grin. "I'm not, silly. I'm
speaking wolf. All Garou can understand each other, no matter what
form they're in." The wolf sat, and raised her head to look at
Willow. "Ok, now you try."

"Pfft, oh yeah, I'll just do that." Willow rolled her eyes. "How am
I supposed to change into a wolf? And besides, the moon's not out."

Wolf-Nichole chuckled, a decidedly strange sound. "The whole point is
to control the Wolf, not have the Wolf control you. You don't need
the moon to change, but if you're not careful, the moon will Change
_you_."

Willow looked at the woman dubiously. "Ok... Assuming I can change,
how would I do it?"

"You work magick, right? Visualize. Visualize yourself as a wolf, how
it would feel, how you would look. Concentrate."

Still doubtful, Willow got down on all fours. I feel silly, she
thought. Ok, visualize... She cleared her mind, and thought about
what Nichole told her. Her stomach gave a sickening jolt as she
realized she could feel her bones and muscles moving around under her
skin. She didn't lose the visual, though; the feeling was strange,
but not painful. This must be what happens when you don't fight the
Change, you invite it, she realized.

An overwhelming series of odors assaulted her senses. She could smell
_everything_... The dust and cardboard of the boxes, the myriad types
of incense on sale in the front room...even the oil and gasoline fumes
from the street outside coated the inside of her nose and mouth like
grease. She shook her head, trying to regain some control over her
senses.

"I probably should have warned you," Nichole said. "Wolves have a
much better sense of smell than humans. We call this form Lupus,
because, well, duh."

Willow opened her eyes, and saw that she was now at eye-level with the
black-furred wolf. She looked down at her own body, and saw the same
red paws that she remembered from her dream. I'm really a wolf... The
thought tried to penetrate her brain.

"Ok, now let's go back to human." Nichole lowered her head for a
moment, and her form shimmered much like before. After a moment she
was sitting on the ground, in human form, wearing the same clothes as
before.

Willow found the transition from wolf to human to be much easier than
the other way around. After all, she had spent nineteen years being
human, she was pretty familiar with herself. It only took a moment
for her to be sitting on the ground, in human form.

"I can't believe this..." She looked at her hands, and saw that no
trace of the wolf remained. "I must be dreaming or something. I
can't believe I can do this!" The redhead laughed, as much from relief
as any real joy.

Nichole grinned. "I'm going to show you our other forms, some of
which aren't nearly as interesting, just to give you a visual on what
they're supposed to look like." After a moment of concentration,
Nichole shifted into a form which was like her wolf form, but larger,
almost like one of the Dire Wolves of Pleistocene America. Willow
could see where this form was closest to what Oz became when he
changed; only Oz, since he was not in control of the change, was much
more "devolved".

Nichole shifted again, this time to something which was almost her
human state, but not quite. Willow giggled. She looked a little like
Buffy when she was in "Cave-Slayer" mode. There were definite
Cro-Magnon tendencies there in Nichole's jutting brow and heavy bone
structure. On the other hand, she looked like she could snap Willow
in half like a twig, so the redhead thought it best not to comment on
her looks.

After a minute, Nichole shifted again. All trace of humor in Willow's
face vanished, as she looked on the beast that she must've been when
she tore apart those vampires like so many rag dolls.

She was at least eight feet tall, and almost five feet wide at the
shoulder; her body was covered by that same dense, black fur that
accompanied her in wolf form. She stood easily on two legs, despite
the fact that they weren't human legs, but some heavier adaptation of
a wolf's hind legs. A large, bushy tail looked like it helped Nichole
keep her balance.

She held out her hands, and Willow could see the huge, razor sharp
talons which tipped each finger. Her face and head was that of a
wolf, and when she smiled Willow caught a glimpse of the huge fangs,
larger than those of any normal canine.

Nichole was, quite literally, a eight foot tall, five hundred pound
killing machine of razor claws and densely packed muscle.

She grinned, showing off her prodigious fangs. "We call this form the
Crinos."

* * *

Buffy approached the magick shop with some trepidation. She
immediately noticed the "Closed" sign in the window, and her stomach
clenched. She knew, at that moment, that something terrible had
happened or was about to happen to Willow. She could never forgive
herself if that occurred.

She leaned against the door, listening intently. She heard snarls and
growls coming from the inside, from the back rooms. Instantly, Buffy
was through the door, only noticing incidentally that it was unlocked.
Grabbing a stake out of her pocket, she rushed into the back room.

The Slayer took in the scene instantly: Willow was on one side of the
room, staring at the...creature...on the other side in wide eyed
wonder. The creature itself was huge, and looked exactly like the one
Buffy had seen the previous night. She didn't have time to wonder
about this, however; she immediately ran over to stand in front of
Willow. If this...beast...was going to try to get to Willow, it was
going to have to tear through her to do it. Unfortunately, the Slayer
couldn't make bets on how difficult she could make that.

Even though her wooden stake was tiny compared to even one of the
great beast's claws, Buffy brandished it at the creature. "Stay
back!" She yelled, motioning Willow back with her other hand. "Don't
think I won't turn you into a rug if you try anything!"

The creature let out a series of snarls and growls which only Willow
was able to understand. "You want to tell your friend that I wouldn't
hurt either of you?"

The question propelled Willow out of her shock. "Buffy, no!" She
said, tugging on her stake arm. "It's ok!"

Buffy looked at her friend like she had just grown another head.
"Ok?" She said, incredulously. "Will, what the hell is going on
here?" She looked back at the creature, and finally noticed its black
fur. "Wait a minute...You're not the same one I met last night."

If Buffy didn't know better, she would have sworn the creature sighed.

The werewolf, Nichole, carefully moved her hands palms outward, in a
gesture of calm. She looked past Buffy to Willow, and growled, "I'm
going to try to shift back to Homid, but I don't want her to get the
idea that I'm trying something. Can you distract her until I'm done?"

Buffy heard the growling, snarling noises that the beast was making,
and was surprised when she saw Willow nodding in response. Willow
tugged a little harder on Buffy's stake arm, and said, "Please, Buffy,
look at me. I appreciate you defending me, but I'm not in any danger.
I've been talking to Nichole, here--"

"Nichole?" Buffy looked at Willow skeptically. "Are you trying to
tell me this...this _thing_...has a name?"

She was startled a moment later when she heard a voice from the other
side of the room. "Yes, I have a name, and my name is Nichole.
Nichole Thompson, actually, late of Humboldt County, California."
Buffy whirled around to face the creature -- who was now not a
creature at all, but a young, black-haired woman. Buffy involuntarily
took a step back. Eight foot tall monsters she could deal with, she
was used to that; but eight foot tall monsters who were actually
polite, young women threw her for a loop.

The Slayer shook her head slightly, clearing it. She fixed Nichole
and Willow with a cold, flat gaze; after her previous discomfiture,
now she was all business. "I think you had better tell me what's
going on," she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Willow recognized her friend's reaction. When Buffy got thrown off
balance, she tended to hide her weakness by overcompensating in what
Willow called "Super Slayer Mode." Willow looked downcast. She hoped
that her news wouldn't be too much for her friend to handle. She
didn't know what would happen to her if Buffy chose to cut her out of
her life.

Nichole took a step forward, and realized her mistake when she saw
Buffy's eyes narrow. Holding up her hands in a peaceful gesture, she
said, "Well, you probably already guessed this, but I'm a werewolf.
Garou, actually, is our word for it. I'm actually a very peaceful
person, and don't wish to do harm to either you or your friend."

Buffy gave Nichole a hard look. "Yeah, you looked real peaceful when
I came in a minute ago." She spared a glance for Willow, who was
standing a couple of feet away looking miserable. "Will? Did you know
about this?"

Willow dropped her gaze, and said quietly, "I...I just found out."
Her head drooped, and her hair covered her face.

Buffy looked at her friend. Sunlight was streaming in from a small,
high window, and was highlighting Willow's hair a deep red. Deep
red... Suddenly, a look of comprehension snapped across Buffy's face.
Before anyone could react, she covered the distance between herself
and Willow and lifted her shirt a few inches, revealing the pale scar
on Willow's right side. It had faded even more than when Willow saw
it this morning, but it was still plainly recognizable.

"It was _you_," Buffy said bitterly, dropping the shirt and taking a
step back.

Willow winced at the betrayed look she was getting from her friend.
"Buffy," she reached out toward the Slayer, only to watch brokenly as
her friend took another step back. "Buffy, I didn't know..."

The Slayer whirled around, facing Nichole. "You did this to her! You
turned her into a monster!" She jabbed the stake in Nichole's
direction, punctuating each sentence.

Nichole gave the blonde a sympathetic look, and shook her head. "This
isn't something that was done to her, this is who she is. She has
been Garou since birth, but only now has it chosen to manifest itself.
She has no choice; if she doesn't learn what it means, she will never
be at peace with herself."

Buffy glanced back at Willow, and her broken-hearted expression
touched something deep in the Slayer. She'd give up her right arm
before she'd hurt Willow, but...she wasn't sure if she even knew
Willow anymore.

Unshed tears filled Willow's eyes, and she swallowed harshly.
"Buffy..." Her voice broke on the name. She tried again. "Buffy...I
don't know what's going on. I don't know what to think anymore. I
just know that I need your help." She dropped heavily to her knees,
her legs no longer able to support her. She whispered, "I can't do
this alone."

Seeing Willow drop to the ground, something snapped inside Buffy.
Damn it! She thought savagely. This is still Willow, this is still my
best friend. She ran over to where Willow knelt, and put her arms
around her. Immediately, her friend dissolved into harsh sobs. "Shh,
it's ok," Buffy said, stroking her friend's hair. "It'll be ok.
You're not alone, I'm here." With some difficulty, she struggled to
overcome her aversion to the black-haired young woman. Looking at
Nichole, she said quietly, "You can help her?"

The woman nodded confidently, and stayed silent.

Buffy sat comforting Willow for several long moments; finally, the
redhead stopped crying. Buffy pulled Willow to her feet, and helped
support her friend. Willow felt much better now that she knew that
Buffy wouldn't freeze her out. Buffy continued, never breaking eye
contact with the black-haired werewolf. "Ok, then. On one condition.
We take you to talk to our friend, Giles."

* * *

Nichole looked around at Willow and her friends with amusement. When
she had agreed to talk to their friend Giles she figured that he must
be some kind of mentor to the girl; she wasn't wrong, but she noted
that Giles was almost childlike in his enthusiasm when he was
presented with new information.

She had told them everything about Garou that she felt they could
handle at the moment; about how the werewolves considered themselves
to be the guardians of the Earth, the defenders of Gaia. About how
the werewolves themselves mainly fought on the side of good; she tried
to reassure them that just because Willow was a werewolf didn't mean
that she would turn into a ravening monster. Giles, in particular,
was fascinated by her admission that "werewolves", meaning the
creatures of legend, did not exist.

"So, if this is correct," Giles said, pacing excitedly across the
floor, "all the information that the Watcher's Council has gathered on
werewolves is nothing but half-truths and wives' tales?"

Nichole smiled. "Basically." She sat forward, her expression
sobering. "For Willow's sake, you can't pass this information on to
them. They would want to hunt her, and study her, and discover all
they could about the Garou. There are few enough of us already; if
Humankind in general knew that we existed..." She trailed off, with a
shudder. "We would easily be wiped out." The somber faces regarding
her were proof enough that they took her words seriously.

"What do I do now?" The soft question interrupted their thoughts, and
they turned to look at Willow, who had a very lost expression.

Buffy went to her friend and sat down next to her, wrapping her arm
around Willow's shoulders. "What do you want to do? You know, Will,
you know enough about how to control the changing thing. You don't
need to go any further if you don't want to."

Willow looked at Nichole. Nichole nodded in agreement, and added,
"What your friend says is very true. If you wish, I can teach you
more about your heritage, but the choice is up to you."

"I want to learn."

* * *

Kraxthus strode through the dank sewer tunnels quickly. He shivered
at the thought of having to bring his lord this news, but his duty
overrode his fear. He entered a large, dank chamber lit by huge
braziers emitting a noxious green flame. He immediately dropped to
his knees, and waited to be recognized.

"Kraxthus." He heard the low, drawling voice of his lord speaking to
him. He looked up at the huge, black werewolf sitting on a raised
dais.

Thraxuil, also known by the name Eater-of-Children, was a vicious,
imposing figure. Green light shone deep within his eyes, reflecting
the insanity that dwelled within. His body was criss-crossed with
hairless scars, which almost gave him a tattooed appearance. "Have
you come to give me good news, Theurge?"

Kraxthus swallowed nervously, and replied, "My lord. I have spoken
with the Spirit Banes. They have brought me news of a Garou who has
undergone First Change."

Thraxuil smiled wickedly. Though he was widely known for his insanity
and erratic behavior, he was a strong werewolf with a deep cunning.
That was one of the things that made him dangerous, Kraxthus realized.
The werewolf stepped down off the dais and stood in front of a
kneeling Kraxthus. He smiled, and offered his huge hand to assist him
in rising to his feet. Kraxthus took the proffered hand, knowing that
he didn't dare refuse.

"And have we 'retrieved' this Garou?"

Kraxthus winced inwardly. "No, my lord. She is currently being
protected by a Child of Gaia."

Still holding Kraxthus' hand, Thraxuil brought his other hand down
upon the man's forearm, snapping it in half. Kraxthus stifled a
scream, and once again dropped to his knees.

The green flame leapt in Thraxuil's eyes. "Then we will have to send
someone to retrieve her." He dropped Kraxthus' hand, and turned to
walk up the dais. "Since I have walked the Black Spiral, do you know
how many times I have failed the Wyrm?"

Kraxthus choked out, "None, my lord."

"None!" Thraxuil roared. "It will not start now." Abruptly, he waved
his hand dismissively. "Leave me."

Kraxthus rose and bowed, backing out of the chamber. Once he left, he
shifted forms into the Crinos, hoping that it would help his arm heal
more quickly. He was lucky to have left the chamber with such minor
injuries, he thought, glancing back at the several large, fur pelts
that decorated the chamber.

* * *

Buffy walked through the graveyard, feet crunching the dry leaves
scattered across the thick grass. She looked at her friend walking
next to her; Willow's face was a mixture of fear and apprehension.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Buffy said, laying a comforting
hand on Willow's shoulder.

Willow swallowed nervously. "I know... But Nichole said that if I
didn't get some of this worked out of my system I might just change
anyway, like I did last night." She looked up at the full moon, a
pale disc illuminating the ground below.

Buffy nodded. "Well, be careful--" She began, and froze as she
noticed three vampires approaching them from the side.

"Well, look what we have here," the head vampire said, with a cocksure
attitude. "Almost enough to go around." His companions laughed, a
laughter which died on their undead lips when Buffy whipped out a
wooden stake.

"Hi guys, maybe you know who I am? If not, you're going to find out,"
she said, readying herself for combat.

"It's the Slayer! Get her!" the lead vampire yelled, and his
companions leapt at Buffy, trying to bring her down.

"'Get her'? How original," Buffy replied, leveling one vampire with a
kick to the midsection. The other vampire got a hold of her, though,
and dragged her down to the ground where they grappled for the wooden
stake.

Willow felt her heart beating about a thousand times a minute. This
is it, she thought; but she almost couldn't will herself to move.
Concentrate, dammit! Buffy needs you! Willow closed her eyes, and
visualized her eight foot Crinos form, complete down to every detail.
She felt a lurch as her bones and muscles changed, adapting to the
new, heavier form. When she opened her eyes again she looked down on
the vampires like they were squabbling children.

The lead vampire's jaw dropped as he saw the young, slight redhead
change into a monstrous beast that even _he_ couldn't imagine in his
wildest nightmares. The creature let out a howl that was pure rage,
and to the vampire's horror, leapt straight at him! He held up his
hands, shielding his face in a futile gesture.

The werewolf sank all the claws on her left hand deep into the
vampire's chest. Raising her hand, she lifted the vampire right off
of his feet. The vampire dropped his arms in shock, and Willow took
that opportunity to wrap one powerful hand around his neck. Flexing
her muscles, she literally tore the vampire's head from his shoulders,
reducing him to dust.

Buffy had dispatched the other two with relative ease. She looked at
the creature -- Willow, she reminded herself -- uneasily. Willow's
form shimmered, and in just a moment she was standing there, looking
pretty much the same as she always did.

Willow leapt up and down, excitedly. "I did it!" She yelled, and ran
over, grabbing Buffy in a bearhug. "I really did it!"

Buffy smiled, Willow's enthusiasm not quite easing her mind. "Yeah,
Will, you sure did." She made a conscious effort to sound as
supportive and encouraging as possible. "You sure did."

* * *

Gregory Hartwell checked his Rolex. 12:37 a.m. Perfect. He rose,
and straightened the blazer of his Armani suit. He spared a quick
glance around the wood-paneled boardroom before speaking. "I call the
monthly meeting of the Los Angeles Glass Walkers to order. Michelle,
we'll dispense with the Roll Call, just mark down who is present. Do
we have any Old Business?"

Michelle looked at the minutes. "I believe the only Old Business we
have is that of the chemical waste dump in the Valley."

Hartwell nodded. "Pete, have you made any headway there?"

Peter Grisham stood, and opened a folder in front of him. "Thanks to
some timely pressure from the EPA, Environ Oil has been forced to
clean up the site completely, or face huge fines. Thanks to some
falsified computer records," his face lit up in a fierce grin, "we had
no problem convincing the EPA that Environ was responsible." He sat
down again.

Hartwell smiled approvingly. "Good. Those bastards thought they had
covered their tracks... No one messes with Gaia in my city. Shall we
move on to new business?" The motion was seconded, and Hartwell
called for new business.

Chris Maxwell, a young, ambitious Glass Walker signaled that he wished
to speak. Though Chris was only 20 years old, he already had double
Bachelor's Degrees in Computer Science and Business. He was bright;
bright enough to be made Vice President of Software Development in
Hartwell's corporation. Even if he wasn't already Garou, Hartwell
thought, he'd still make formidable Kinfolk. He signaled for the
young man to stand.

"It has been brought to my attention that just recently a young Garou
has undergone her First Change. I believe this Lost Cub is one of
ours." Chris paused, and waited for the murmurs to die down. "Some
of you probably still remember the Rosenberg Kinfolk..."

Hartwell nodded. "They moved to that suburb, Sunnydale, about twenty
years ago. But if it was one of theirs, we should have been
notified."

Chris shook his head. "The spirits that were watching them were
eliminated, killed by agents of the Wyrm."

"Black Spirals," Hartwell said, his voice low and vicious.

"Yes, Black Spirals. Almost all of the spirits watching Kinfolk in
Sunnydale have been eliminated, a long time ago. That place is a
hotbed of Wyrm activity; there's a dark Caern, a sacred site there
that they call the Hellmouth. It has been closed for years, but it
calls to all sorts of corrupt creatures. There may be other Lost Cubs
there, but I know for sure of one by the name of Willow Rosenberg."

Hartwell stood and walked to the window, looking out over the bright
city below. "The Glass Walker tribe has flourished, even though our
brethren in other tribes are faltering. Even so, every cub is
precious to us." He turned, and faced the assembled Garou. "Chris,
you must go to Sunnydale and find this Lost Cub. She is one of ours,
she belongs with our tribe. And if Wyrm activity in the area is as
heavy as you believe it is, the Black Spirals may already know of her
existence. She needs protection."

Hartwell returned to his place at the head of the conference table.
"Visit with Human Resources tomorrow, and sign the paperwork for your
vacation. There will be extra stock options in your future if you
succeed. Unless anyone has any more business, I'll declare this
meeting adjourned."

"...and since your shifting is going very well, I don't see any reason
why we shouldn't go right on to history and culture, ok Willow?"
Nichole looked over at the young woman, who appeared to be
daydreaming. "Willow?"

Willow's head jerked up with a start. "Oh, uh, sure," she said.

Nichole gave her an amused look. "You haven't heard a word I've said,
have you?"

"Um, not really," Willow replied, chagrined. "I was kinda thinking
about something else."

"Oh? Care to tell me? Maybe I can help," Nichole said, taking a seat
next to the young woman.

"Well, I don't know if you can help," Willow replied. After a moment,
she sighed. "It's Buffy. I knew this werewolf thing was going to
change our friendship, but she's just gotten so distant over the past
couple of days. She uses all sorts of excuses to stay away from our
room, for one thing. She's never there when she thinks I might be.
She patrols until late at night so she thinks I'll be asleep when she
returns, and she leaves before I wake up in the morning. It's like
she doesn't want to see me, doesn't want to have to deal with this
whole thing." Willow sighed dejectedly.

Nichole laid a comforting hand on Willow's shoulder. "Well, sometimes
people have a hard time dealing with something that shakes up their
life as much as this has. I know you've had a lot to adjust to, but
in a way it's almost worse for Buffy because she has no control over
what's going on. Usually it will just take time, and once she works
out whatever it is that's bothering her, she'll remember why she loved
you in the first place."

Willow looked up at Nichole, uncertainly. "Love? You mean friendship,
right?"

Nichole smiled and instead of answering, said, "You're very lucky,
Willow. You don't need to hide who you are from Buffy. You can both
trust each other, and share yourselves with each other. There need
not be any falsehoods between the two of you." Nichole stood, and
walked away a few paces, lost in thought. "Most other Garou never get
that opportunity. Human and wolf mates would only be placed in great
danger if they knew about our battle against the Wyrm's forces. It is
impossible for a Garou to be completely honest about who we are with
the ones we love."

"Why not choose a mate who is another Garou, then?" Willow asked,
quietly.

Long-remembered pain etched Nichole's features. "Garou do not mate
with Garou. The children born from such a union are always hideously
deformed, and are usually treated as outcasts in Garou society. It is
our oldest Law...and the one which is the most difficult to follow."
Nichole passed a hand over her eyes, wiping away tears. She turned
and faced Willow, her countenance grave. "But you, Willow -- you have
the chance to be friends with someone who is truly the sister of your
heart. Perhaps it is time to bring our lesson to an end for the
evening. Go to Buffy, and talk to her. Do something together
tonight, something which doesn't involve your Garou heritage.
Something which will help her remember." Nichole smiled.

Willow nodded; she felt like she had just been privy to one of the
young woman's deepest, most painful secrets. And it was only after
she left the store and headed for campus did it occur to her to wonder
if Nichole was really only talking about Buffy and Willow's
friendship.

* * *

Willow returned to the dorm room just in time to see Buffy placing
some books in a backpack. All the nervousness came back to her all at
once, and she had a hard time sounding casual. Even to her own ears,
it sounded forced. "Hey, Buffy... Say, how about you and me grab some
pizza, rent some movies..." She trailed off when Buffy grabbed her
backpack and walked past her to the door.

Avoiding eye contact with her friend, Buffy said, "Ah, gee, I'd love
to Will, but I have to get to the library to do some homework. I'll
probably be back late, so don't wait up or anything..." She left the
room, shutting the door behind her.

Willow stood there for a moment, stunned. Feeling the anger grow
inside her at being brushed off, she left the room, running after her
friend.

She finally caught up with Buffy on a concrete sidewalk outside.
Willow grabbed Buffy's elbow, whirling the Slayer around. Surprise
etched the blonde woman's features.

"Homework?" Willow said, anger building in her voice. "Buffy, it's
eight o'clock on a Friday. You're not _that_ dedicated a student.
What the hell is going on here?"

Buffy, who had been busy looking alternately nervous and guilty,
bristled under Willow's tone. "Why don't you tell me, Will?" she
said. "You apparently don't need me anymore for anything. You've got
your own little werewolf friend. Hell, you're even a tougher fighter
than I am, now. You don't need me." She ripped her elbow from
Willow's grasp fiercely.

All the anger seemed to drain out of Willow when she heard Buffy's
words. Buffy was avoiding her because she felt out-of-place in
Willow's "new life." Willow shook her head sadly, seeing Buffy's
angry gaze. "Buffy, you don't understand. Since I found out I'm
Garou, I need you more than ever." She winced at Buffy's flatly
disbelieving gaze, and continued. "I can never go back to who I once
was. But I need you in my life, Buffy. It's just not worth it if I
don't have you to share it with."

Buffy looked at Willow, her anger fading to uncertainty. "I just
don't know what my role is supposed to be anymore. I used to be your
Slayer, the person who kicked butt for you and tried to protect you
from all the nasties. But you don't need me to be that anymore. I
used to be the friend you ran to when you had something you wanted to
talk about. But it looks like you're running to Nichole now." Faint
bitterness tinged the words as she spoke.

Willow shook her head, and said, "Buffy, you can be who you always
were, and always _are_: my best friend. Nichole has been a good
friend, but she's not you. She can never be you." Willow looked at
Buffy, her heart reflected in her eyes.

Before Buffy could speak, a low, haunting voice came out of the
shadows. "She'll only disappoint you, Willow... They always
disappoint you..." Buffy and Willow whirled around to see two tall
figures emerging from the shadows. They moved with an accomplished
grace, like lethal predators examining the herd for weak members.
They were obviously werewolves, but a kind that Willow had not seen
before; they were in full Crinos form, and their oily black fur melded
into the shadows surrounding the lit sidewalk. Their eyes glowed with
a deep green inner flame, and their ears were hairless and leathery,
almost like bats' wings. When they spoke, Willow felt the hair at the
back of her neck stand on end.

"Come with us, Willow..." One of them said. "We're the only ones who
won't disappoint you, who won't leave you." The other one chimed in.
"Your parents, Buffy, none of them love you, Willow, none of them will
take care of you. Not like we'll take care of you. Come with us."
They circled around the girls until they stood on either side of them.
"Don't refuse us, Willow. You shouldn't refuse us."

"Who the hell are these guys, Will?" Buffy asked, turning so as not to
let them get behind her.

Willow just shook her head. Every fiber of her being was telling her
to kill these beings; she had never even seen one of these things
before, had never even seen a Crinos besides Nichole, but these things
exuded such a sense of _wrong_ that she couldn't ignore it. "I don't
know what they are, but they're evil," was all she said.

"That's all I need to know," Buffy replied, and to Willow's horror,
she launched herself at the first werewolf. She delivered a
devastating series of kicks and punches; at least, they would be
devastating, if the werewolf had reacted at all to being hit. He
leveled one punch at the Slayer, and sent her sprawling heavily to the
turf.

Willow watched in shock as Buffy landed on the ground and struggled to
rise. The werewolf she had attacked smiled, and walked over to stand
above the fallen Slayer. Willow ran toward the thing, her rage
growing as she drew closer to the beast. She leapt at the werewolf,
shifting into the Crinos as she did so. Soon, her clawed hands
grasped at the thing's throat, seeking to puncture some vital artery.

Buffy looked up and saw Willow in full Crinos form grappling with the
other werewolf. The Slayer whirled around and ducked just in time to
avoid a clawed hand, which passed through the space her head had
occupied just a moment before. The second werewolf, who had been
forgotten in the excitement, had decided it was time to strike.

Buffy ducked under another blow, noticing that although these things
were strong, they weren't fast or very agile. They were big, though,
and if her previous experience was any indication, her usual
compliment of attacks really wouldn't work. Unless... Buffy ducked a
clawed swipe, and rolled forward until she was positioned on her back,
between the thing's legs. Kicking upward with all her force, she
solidly contacted the beast's groin, lifting him completely off the
ground with her kick. She rolled away quickly, just before the thing
came crashing to his knees in pain.

Not exactly a killing blow, Buffy thought, but it does buy me some
time.

Willow had now lost herself completely to instinct; she raked and bit,
sending pieces of fur and flesh flying everywhere. She felt a solid
blow to her side, and felt something warm and wet run down her leg.
She was strong but she was still an inexperienced Garou, and this
beast made her pay for every scratch she dealt.

Buffy knew she had to end this quickly. While the werewolf was still
recovering from the blow she had landed, she leapt on his back
wrapping one arm around his thick neck. She tightened her grip, and
with her other hand slowly but inexorably twisted the werewolf's head
around. He grabbed for her, but too late; a final jerk snapped the
werewolf's neck, sending him sprawling on the ground, lifeless.

Buffy stood on shaking legs, and looked over to where Willow was
battling the other werewolf. She watched with a sinking feeling as
the werewolf sank his claws, time and again, into her body; finally,
Willow collapsed in a heap at the beast's feet.

"You should not have refused the Wyrm," the werewolf hissed. "If you
do not join us, you will not be allowed to live." He reached down,
wrapping his hand around Willow's throat.

Instantly, the werewolf reared up in surprise as Buffy jumped on his
back, her arms wrapping around his throat. Holding her forearm with
her other hand, she slowly tightened her grip and felt the thing's
throat give way under her crushing pressure. The werewolf rent her
arms with his claws, tearing deep gashes in her skin, trying to get
her to release her hold. The Slayer ignored the pain, only tightening
her grip further. After what seemed like an eternity, the werewolf
dropped to its knees, a lack of oxygen weakening the creature. He
finally fell face down, his limbs going limp as he passed out. Still
Buffy did not relinquish her hold until she was satisfied that the
beast was dead. Stumbling away from the bodies, she ran to Willow's
side.

With the detached air of many hours of practice, she evaluated
Willow's injuries. The redhead had managed to shift back into human
form, which revealed numerous minor scratches and bruises. The most
disturbing injuries were several puncture wounds to her body caused by
the werewolf's sharp claws. Willow's eyes fluttered open and she
regarded Buffy calmly.

"Hey," she said, coughing. "I guess they look worse than I do, huh?"

Buffy smiled, a smile which did nothing to dispel the worry in her
eyes. "Yeah, you tore 'em up, Will. Don't worry, though, you just
have a few scratches. Nothing a big, bad werewolf can't handle,
right? We'll get you patched up in no time, don't worry."

Willow shook her head weakly. "No...isn't like the knife. These
wounds feel hot...aren't healing. Need..." The talking sent her into
a coughing spasm, and mercifully she passed out.

Working fast, Buffy tore her sweatshirt into pieces and managed to
patch up the worst of Willow's wounds. The deep gouges on her own
arms were still dripping blood, so she quickly wrapped those as well.

"Ok, Will, we've got to get you somewhere, and fast," Buffy said,
bending down to pick up the young woman. She lifted her with some
difficulty, but could only take her a short distance before her head
began to swim from blood loss and exertion. She quickly set Willow
down again, afraid she would drop the redhead if she continued.

Dammit! Buffy thought, savagely. We don't have time for me to be weak
right now!

"Hey, are you guys ok? Were you in an accident, or something?" A young
blonde guy came running up to them. "My car isn't far, I can take you
guys to the hospital."

Buffy ran through her options, which admittedly weren't many. "Sure,
that would be great," she said, "but we're not going to the hospital."
With the young man's help, they carried Willow to his car, a
late-model, black Range Rover. After settling Willow in the back,
they jumped in.

"Ok, where are we going, then?" He asked, starting the car's engine.

"I'll just give you directions." Buffy glanced at the young man, and
realized how brusque she sounded. "Thanks...thanks for your help. My
name's Buffy. Buffy Summers."

"Chris Maxwell," the young man replied, and pulled his car out of the
lot, onto the street.

They drove quickly through the night, the silence punctuated only by
Buffy's terse directions. When the Slayer told Chris to stop the car
in front of the shop on the right, he looked at her incredulously.

"You won't take her to a hospital, but you will take her to a magick
shop. A little Dark Ages, isn't it?"

Buffy glanced at the young man nervously. "There's someone there who
can help her." Muttering under her breath, she finished, "I hope."
The two jumped out of the car, and began the delicate process of
moving Willow from the car to the shop. During the car ride, Willow
had slipped in and out of consciousness, and when Buffy held on to her
to help carry her into the building she noticed how hot the redhead's
skin was.

The two of them carried Willow into the magick shop, which was open
despite the somewhat late hour. As the door chimed to signal their
arrival, a voice was heard from the back room: "Just a minute, I'll
be right out!"

Chris looked up sharply, as if surprised to hear the voice. Buffy
glanced at him, and in response to her quizzical look, he muttered, "I
knew we should have taken her to a hospital."

Nichole stepped out from the back room, a greeting dying on her lips
at the sight of Willow. "Quickly," she said, motioning them to the
back, "Bring her back here." She cleared off one of the long work
tables and laid a clean, but not very soft, army blanket on top of it.
She motioned for Willow to be placed there. Giving Buffy a sharp
look, she asked, "How did this happen?"

Buffy swallowed her anger, and replied, "A couple of _your_ people
attacked us. Some nasty, greasy werewolves. We managed to finish
them off, but one of them roughed up Will pretty bad."

"They're lucky I showed up when I did," Chris remarked. "Or should I
say, we're all lucky."

Nichole looked closely at Chris for the first time, and her jaw
dropped. "Kernel?" She asked, her voice taking on a disbelieving
tone.

Buffy, misunderstanding, said, "Colonel? Colonel who? Look, we don't
have time for this, can you help Willow or not?"

Nichole nodded at Buffy, and said, "Of course, I'm sorry. Could you
two wait in the front room? I'll know better what's going on in a
little while."

Chris nodded and, grabbing Buffy's elbow, steered her toward the
front. "C'mon," he said, not unkindly. "I'll answer any questions
you have while Nichole does her thing."

* * *

Buffy paced the floor, her fierce movements causing Chris to wince
slightly. "So, what's the story, Chris? Or is your name even Chris?"

Chris looked at Buffy, and sighed. "Yes, my name is Chris. Chris
Maxwell, just like I told you. I'm a werewolf too, just like Nichole
and Willow."

"Wow, you guys are just all over the place, aren't you?" Buffy
replied, sarcasm coating the words thickly.

"Not really," Chris said, sadly. "There aren't many of us left.
That's why I came to Sunnydale, to make sure Willow would be safe."

"So who were those guys, anyway?" Buffy asked. She gestured with one
injured arm, and winced as she felt the wound tear.

Chris looked down at Buffy's arms, noticing the blood-stained bandages
for the first time. "Geez!" He said, stepping forward for a closer
look. "Did they hurt you?"

Buffy looked down at her arm and shrugged. "I'm used to it, although
those suckers hurt me worse than almost anything else I've fought."
She carefully unwrapped her arms, noting the deep gashes inflicted by
the werewolf's claws. In the light of the store they seemed worse
than when she first saw them outside. Some of them appeared to almost
go to the bone.

Chris looked at the deep wounds, and paled. No human should have been
able to survive those lacerations, he thought, but Buffy looked like
it was just inconvenient. "Uh, I'll go see if Nichole has anything...
medical..." He rushed off to the back room, and emerged a few moments
later with a large bag. He pulled Buffy over to the counter, and
began rinsing out her wounds with antiseptic. He looked at her calm
face with alarm. "Geez, you didn't slip into shock or anything, did
you? How the hell are you still alive with wounds like this?"

Buffy gave a half-smile, and fished out some surgical needles and
thread with one hand. "I'm the Slayer," was all she gave in way of
explanation.

Chris remained silent as he worked. He had heard of the Slayer, a
human being supposedly gifted with great powers to enable her to fight
against the Wyrm. He knew that Willow had made a powerful ally if the
Slayer was willing to risk her life to protect her. After a few
moments, Chris said, "So, describe these werewolves that attacked
you."

"Well, they were obviously werewolves," Buffy began, trying to
remember. "They had weird green glowing eyes, though."

Chris nodded. "Black Spiral Dancers." He spat out the words, as if
to rid himself of the bad taste they placed in his mouth. "Corrupt
Garou. Werewolves who have been driven insane, and forced to serve
the Wyrm."

"What is the Wyrm?" Buffy asked, his words drawing her out, reaching
her natural curiosity. "I've heard that word a couple times now."

Chris finished rinsing the wounds, and he took the needle and thread
from Buffy. "There are three fundamental forces in the universe. The
Wyld is the fundamental force of change, of nature, of raw elemental
power. The Weaver is the fundamental force of order, of building, of
technological power. And then there's the Wyrm. The Wyrm began as
the fundamental force of destruction; whenever a forest fire swept
through a wooded area, clearing out the dead brush to leave the new
saplings room to grow, that was the Wyrm. Whenever a building grew
old, and in disrepair, and collapsed to be hauled away and remade,
that was the Wyrm." Carefully threading the needle, he began
stitching the long gashes on Buffy's arms with small, precise
movements.

Buffy frowned, wincing slightly at the stitching. "That doesn't sound
very evil."

"It isn't." Chris shook his head. "But long ago, no one is certain
exactly when, the Weaver achieved sentience. She looked at all Her
accomplishments and saw that ultimately, they were all destined for
destruction. She went mad, and wished to encompass the entire
universe in Her Pattern, to hold it static for eternity. To
accomplish this, She started to war against the Wyrm and the Wyld.
The Wyld escaped, and the Weaver could not reach Her. But the Weaver
could reach the Wyrm, and She bound Him up in her Pattern, twisting
Him into Corruption. Now the Wyrm does not seek only to destroy, but
to corrupt anything He touches."

"This is all abstract, right?" Buffy said. "I mean, there's not
really a Weaver, or a Wyrm..."

Chris smiled in response. "Just ask the Black Spirals. The Wyrm is
certainly not abstract to them." He looked at Buffy, as if judging
her abilities. "If Willow was injured, then you must've killed the
Black Spirals."

Buffy shrugged. "Yeah, I did. I took out the first one without too
much trouble; the second one was pretty weakened by his fight with
Willow. Which reminds me, how come those guys died? I figured I would
have needed a silver bullet or something to do a more permanent job."

Chris grinned. "Silver bullets do hurt us, any silver does, in fact.
But it's not the only thing that can hurt us. Decapitation works
nicely; it doesn't matter if its done with silver or not, we can't
really heal from something like that. Same with broken necks, massive
brain trauma, strangulation... We're a bit more delicate than the
myths make us out to be. We regenerate very quickly from most normal
weapons, though, and about the only things that can do us lasting
damage are silver and the teeth and claws of other werewolves. We
have a weakness to the attacks of our own kind, even corrupted Garou
like Black Spirals. That's why Willow reacted so badly to her
wounds..."

Nichole emerged from the back, wiping her hands on a towel. "Well,
you'll be glad to know that Willow will be fine. She's sleeping right
now; it took a great deal of energy for me to heal her wounds to the
point where they were no longer life-threatening." She walked behind
the counter, and examined Buffy's stitches with a critical eye. They
appeared to meet her standards so she began wrapping Buffy's arms in
fresh bandages. "So, did Chris tell you everything that you wished to
know?"

Buffy raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Everything except how you and
he know each other."

Chris and Nichole exchanged uncomfortable looks. "I met Nichole up in
Stanford a couple of years ago," Chris said. "We never got along very
well. Philosophical differences. Two different tribes, and all
that." At Buffy's questioning gaze, he continued. "Nichole is a
member of the Children of Gaia tribe of Garou. I am a member of the
Glass Walker tribe. There are thirteen tribes, and very few of them
get along. The philosophical differences are usually too great."

Buffy gave him a sardonic look. "That's inconvenient. Seeing as how
you're fighting a war and everything."

Chris blushed. "Yeah, well, no one accused us of not being stubborn,"
he muttered.

* * *

Thraxuil looked down from his raised throne to the grovelling
messenger below. His voice was deathly calm as he asked, "And the
Spirit Banes told you that our soldiers failed?"

Kraxthus nodded, his eyes never leaving the floor. "It is so, my
lord. Their effort to retrieve the Garou was unsuccessful. Both of
our soldiers were killed in the attempt."

"It seems as if we underestimated the power that this Lost Cub wields.
No matter." Thraxuil stepped slowly down to where Kraxthus was
kneeling. He reached out one massive, furred hand and began stroking
Kraxthus's head. Kraxthus endeavored not to shake. "Well, this Garou
will have a surprise in store for her." He stopped his stroking, and
walked back up to his seat. "When you go, tell Illiaaz-ikthya that I
wish to see him."

* * *

Buffy stood by Willow's side, watching her friend sleep. All the
lines of pain and fever that marred her friend's features had
disappeared, and some color began to work its way back into her
cheeks. She looked back at Nichole in mild surprise.

"I was able to heal her, using a gift taught to me by a Unicorn
spirit," Nichole answered quietly. "Unfortunately, I don't have
enough energy to heal her further, or to heal you."

Buffy shrugged, and gently brushed some hair out of Willow's face.
"I'll heal pretty quick. I always do. As long as Willow is safe..."

Chris looked at the two friends, sadness reflected on his face. He
said soberly, "Willow is being hunted by Black Spirals, and they
aren't easily discouraged. I should take her to Los Angeles, to be
with her own tribe."

Buffy whirled around and stepped forward, poking his chest with her
finger. "Look," she said, in a low voice, "Willow isn't going
anywhere until she's healed. And she isn't going anywhere where I
won't be able to protect her."

Nichole nodded. "I agree with Buffy, she shouldn't be moved far until
she gets a chance to recover her strength. Particularly if that means
placing her in with a bunch of Glass Walkers." She gave Chris a
distasteful look, causing him to bristle.

"Ok, well, where should we take her, then?" Chris said, gritting his
teeth. "They can't go back to their dorm, the Black Spirals found
them there, and I was able to find out where she lived without any
difficulty too."

Buffy thought for a moment. "We should take her to Giles'. She'll be
safe there. Once we drop her off, Nichole should stay with her while
Chris and I go back to the dorm to get her things." She had entered
full Slayer Mode now, and she challenged the two werewolves with a
single, confident glance. Neither Garou chose to argue. "Ok, then,
let's get Willow back to the car."

* * *

Giles opened the front door, allowing Buffy to enter. She was
carefully carrying Willow, who had still not regained consciousness.

"Go ahead and lay her down in the back room," Giles said, pointing the
way for Buffy. She had called him from Chris's cell phone on their
way over, and he had already prepared the room for the recovering
young woman. He nodded greetings to Nichole, and looked at the
newcomer with curiosity.

As Buffy took Willow into the back room, Nichole smiled warmly at
Giles. "Nice to meet you again, Mr. Giles. I only wish it were under
better circumstances. This is a ... friend of mine, Chris Maxwell.
He helped bring Willow over here. Chris, this is Rupert Giles."

Chris stepped forward and shook Giles' hand firmly. "Glad to meet
you, sir," he said, turning on the charm that only a Vice President of
a large corporation could manage.

"Yes, well, the pleasure is mine," Giles responded, somewhat taken
aback by the young man's enthusiasm. "I must thank you for the timely
help both of you have given to Willow. Can I get you anything?"

Chris declined. "Nothing for me, thanks. Buffy and I have an errand
to run after she gets Willow settled."

Nichole nodded. "I expect Willow will sleep through the rest of the
night. Her body is conserving energy from the massive amounts of
healing I forced it to do."

Buffy re-entered the room, nodding at Nichole. "She's still out.
Ready to blow this pop stand, Chris?" Chris nodded. "By the way,
Giles, were you able to find the thing we talked about?"

Giles nodded, and went over to his desk. Picking up a blade in a long
sheath, he walked over and gave it to Buffy. "Yes, I found it in my
attic. The sigils carved into the leather sheath..." he pointed to
the markings, "...should have protected it from tarnish or damage.
It's a Celtic design, perhaps from the late tenth century..."

Buffy nodded. "I got it, Giles." She removed the blade from the
sheath, and examined it with a critical eye. It seemed more like an
oversized knife than a sword, but it was easily over a foot long; its
surface gleamed silver in the light. She swung it a couple of times,
testing its balance, and as one Nichole and Chris took a step back.

"Let's roll."

Buffy and Chris got in the Range Rover, and pulled away from Giles'
house. After a few minutes of silence, the Slayer was compelled to
ask about something that had been on her mind most of the evening.

"So, you mentioned that Willow is one of your kind...a Glass Walker?"

Chris nodded. "The Rosenbergs are Glass Walker kinfolk. They moved
from Los Angeles to Sunnydale about twenty years ago."

Buffy bit her lip. "So...what does it mean to be a Glass Walker?"

"Most Garou aren't progressive, in fact, they're regular Luddites.
They want to go back to the way things used to be, before cities,
before technology... Hell, before indoor plumbing." The young man
repressed a shudder. "Glass Walkers are different. We believe it's
our responsibility to protect the cities, that the cities are as much
a part of Gaia as the forests. To that end, we have embraced the
technology of humans, in an attempt to use every tool available to
combat the Wyrm." He sat up a little straighter, pride in his
bearing. "I myself am very accomplished in regards to using
computers, as are most of our tribe."

Buffy nodded absently. "Willow is real good with computers... She's
always showing me stuff that she did that I don't quite get." She
paused, gathering courage. "Will she have to leave Sunnydale?" That
was it, the thing that she had been afraid to speak of since the young
Garou had mentioned taking Willow to Los Angeles. She always knew one
day that Willow's ambitions might take her away from Sunnydale, away
from Buffy; but now that the day might be upon them, she felt a
coldness in the pit of her stomach.

Chris caught the odd note in Buffy's voice, and gave her a speculative
look. "Depends. The Sept Leader might ask her to come to LA... Then
again, he might decide, on someone's recommendation, that Willow be
kept here as a Glass Walker representative. Then she would only have
to visit LA for tribal meetings and emergencies."

Buffy's eyes widened. Barely able to contain her excitement, she
said, "And who would make this recommendation?"

Chris grinned across at the Slayer. "Maybe me."

* * *

The two of them entered Buffy's dorm room cautiously. They had
decided not to take any chances, and that they weren't going to stay
in the room any longer than necessary. After making sure the room was
secure, Buffy started packing enough clothes for her and Willow for
the next few days. Chris, with Buffy's help, was packing some of
Willow's personal effects, such as her witchcraft tools. Buffy
thought about bringing Willow's computer, but Chris snorted
derisively.

"An iMac?" He said, incredulously. "Why did she buy an iMac?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "I think her parents bought it for her."

"That may be fine for writing papers, or sending email to Jeff
Goldblum, but she'll need a PC to get real work done." Chris grinned
in delight, thinking of the type of machine Willow should have. "The
Sept will pay for it..." He whipped out a charge card. "I have a
Corporate AMEX."

Buffy laughed at that. She had to admit that these friendly people,
so full of life and humor, had little in common with the werewolves
she had always read about. If she hadn't run up against the Black
Spirals, she thought, she would have suspected that the negative
werewolf stereotype was some massive propaganda campaign.

Soon they had most of Willow's and Buffy's stuff packed and loaded in
the Range Rover. Chris had suggested that they leave enough of their
belongings lying in plain sight so that the room still looked
lived-in, and Buffy agreed with him. It didn't take long for them to
return to Giles' house, and set up a nice, cozy living space for
Willow to use while she recuperated.

Buffy collapsed on the couch, and looked at Nichole and Giles. "So,
you two been keeping each other company?"

Giles smiled. "Well, yes, actually. Nichole has been filling me in
on some wonderful aspects of werewolf lore and culture."

Chris shot Nichole a stern look. "Nice going, Nichole, what about the
Veil?"

Nichole sniffed. "These two know what the consequences to Willow
would be if our secrets got out. They make good allies. And besides,
Kernel," she continued, fixing him with the same stern look, "tell me
that you didn't blab some of _your_ secrets to Buffy."

Chris blushed, and mumbled that he was going to get something to
drink. He went to Giles' fridge and pulled out a soda.

Buffy fixed them both with a questioning glance. "Why do you keep
calling him Colonel? Is he some kind of army guy?"

Nichole shook her head. "Every Garou, when he or she becomes a full
member of a tribe, gets a special name."

"That's right," Chris nodded. "Mine is Kernel Overload. Kernel, as
in part of a computer Operating System. It was given to me because of
my hacking expertise." There was the proud look again.

Nichole grinned. "Yeah, but some people took to calling him Kernel
Panic."

"Insubordinate pups," Chris growled. "Wouldn't know a computer if it
came up and bit them on the tail. And you're one to talk,
Dances-With-Wolves."

Nichole's eyes narrowed. "That's 'Walks-With-Gaia', you wag!"

"Yeah, whatever."

Buffy rolled her eyes at the exchange. "As much as I'd love to sit
through the newest episode of 'Dysfunctional Werewolves on Parade', I
think it's time we all called it a night."

Everyone agreed, seeing as how it was well after midnight. Nichole
said, "I'll be by in the morning to check on Willow. I'm sure Chris
will want to start her Glass Walker orientation as soon as she's
recovered enough to listen to him drone on and on..." At Chris's
glare, she just smiled back, winningly.

"Ok, don't worry about Willow," Buffy said, determination lighting up
her eyes. "I won't let anything happen to her. Not anything."

Chris and Nichole left. Once the door shut, Buffy looked over at
Giles, and said, "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say those two
were in love."

Outside, Chris opened the car door for Nichole, and remarked, "You
know, if I didn't know better, I'd say Buffy and Willow were in love."

The Child of Gaia just smiled.

* * *

Willow awoke with a start in an unfamiliar room. At least, it seems
unfamiliar, she thought, even though she recognized several of the
things in it as belonging to her. She sat up, wincing at the pain in
her side. Placing a hand over her bandages, the events of last night
came flooding back to her. She and Buffy had an argument, and then
there was a fight, and Buffy was laying on the ground...

"Buffy!"

The Slayer heard Willow shout her name, and she vaulted over the
furniture and was in the room in a flash.

"Are you ok, Will, what's wrong?" Buffy said, rushing to her friend's
side.

Willow placed a trembling hand against her forehead. "Yeah, I'm fine
I guess, I'm better now that I know you're ok." She smiled up at her
friend, relief evident in her gaze.

"Yeah, of course I'm ok, Will," Her friend's concern deeply touched
Buffy, and before she knew what she was doing she had reached out a
hand to brush Willow's hair back from her face. It was a completely
unconscious gesture, and one so gentle that it was hard to believe
that same hand had strangled a werewolf to death the night before.

Willow looked at the bandages covering Buffy's forearms, and gasped.
"What...are you ok? How did you get hurt?" Panic rose in her voice.

"Shh, it's ok, Will..." Buffy said, calming her friend. "I got a few
cuts, but they're almost healed now. You know me, and my Super Slayer
Healing." She smiled at her friend, reassuringly. Truth was, the
gashes that marked her forearms _were_ almost healed up, but Buffy
kept the bandages on until she could remove the stitches. She didn't
want Willow to see just how much effort had gone into closing up the
deep lacerations.

"Buffy, what happened? Who attacked us?" Willow looked lost and
confused. Not surprising, Buffy thought. Even she wasn't sure what
to think, and she had gotten the whole story on Black Spiral Dancers
from Chris.

"Well, my friend," Buffy began, "the whole thing is kinda involved..."

* * *

Chris and Nichole walked up to Giles' house. Several hours of sleep
had done them a world of good, and they exchanged only mild barbs and
insults on their ride over. They knocked on the door, and after a few
moments, Buffy answered.

"Come in," she said. "You don't know how nice it is to have friends
who actually knock. Granted, some of our friends would combust in
daylight if they waited for us to answer the door... Can I get you
anything?"

Nichole shook her head. "Is Willow up? I'd like to go check on her."

"Yep," Buffy nodded. "She's up, and I've already given her the
lowdown on the creeps who attacked us last night. Told her that we
would be hiding out here for the next few days."

Nichole went back to check on Willow, and Buffy noticed that Chris's
eyes followed her as she left. "She's pretty cool," Buffy said,
casually. "Isn't she?"

"She sure is," Chris answered, quietly. Remembering where he was, he
added in a louder voice, "For a Child of Gaia, I mean." He waved it
off.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with the Children of Gaia? I
mean, Nichole seems nice enough, and is really interested in helping
people..."

Chris shrugged. "They're just a bit out of touch. They think that
the Wyrm can just be 'healed' away, and as long as everyone just holds
hands and thinks warm, fuzzy thoughts, everything will be fine." He
scoffed. "It's just a bunch of tree-hugging, hippie crap anyway."
Chris sniffed the air speculatively. "Is that coffee?"

Buffy sighed, and poured him a cup. "Well, if it weren't for
healers," Buffy pressed, "the warriors wouldn't have much of a chance
to fight."

"Yeah, I guess so," Chris replied, sipping his coffee. "I suppose the
Children of Gaia have their place, just like we do."

Aha, a minor victory, Buffy thought. Out loud, she said, "Could it be
that every werewolf tribe has their place, in the grand scheme, I
mean?"

"Some, maybe," Chris reluctantly admitted. "But not all."

Oh, well, good enough, Buffy thought, and the two lapsed into a
companionable silence.

After almost a half an hour, Nichole emerged from the back room. At
Buffy's intent look, she said, "Willow is healing nicely. Tonight,
before she sleeps, I'll come back and ask the spirits to heal her
again. That should leave her almost fully recovered. I also told her
about you," she said, poking Chris in the shoulder, "and I told her to
expect some lessons from you. Try not to scare the girl."

Chris protested. "I wouldn't!"

"Yeah, whatever," Nichole answered with a smile. Turning serious
again, she said, "Willow is very vulnerable when it comes to fighting,
though. She hasn't been taught how to fight in her human state, much
less werewolf. She was lucky to have you around, Buffy, or else just
one Black Spiral would have killed her." Buffy nodded, worried.
Nichole continued. "I think that someone should start training Willow
how to fight."

Chris nodded, as if he saw this coming. "Of course I can--" He fell
silent when he felt Nichole's elbow dig into his ribs.

"I think Buffy should do it," Nichole said, quickly.

Buffy looked shocked. "Me? I don't know anything about fighting as a
werewolf," she said, protesting mildly.

"That's true," Nichole agreed. "But from what I hear you are an
expert in armed and unarmed combat. Plus, you can train with Willow
as much as she needs it. Chris and I have other duties to perform,
duties to our Septs. Of all of us, you are the one most dedicated to
your friend."

Buffy nodded, unable to deny the truth of the Gaian's words. "When
will she be well enough to start?"

Nichole thought for a moment. "Probably tomorrow, if she takes it
easy, and I'm able to heal her tonight. Definitely by the day after.
Chris will also undoubtedly want some of her time to teach her about
Glass Walker philosophy, you know, selling your soul for money,
prostrating yourself before technology, that kind of thing." She
giggled at Chris's glare.

"Never too early to start getting her to sell her soul," Chris said,
and with one last glare in Nichole's direction, went into the back
room to see Willow.

Buffy shook her head. "You really like needling him, don't you?"

"Yep," Nichole said, smiling. "It's just that Glass Walkers tend to
take themselves pretty seriously. If they just learned to lighten up
and ditch all that technology that just weights down their souls,
they'd realize how important the healing work that the Children of
Gaia do really is."

Buffy sighed. Here we go again. "You know, if it wasn't for
technology, you'd probably lose a big advantage in holding the power
of the Wyrm in check, and then where would the healers be..."

Buffy collapsed wearily in a chair that had been set down next to
Willow's bed. It had been a long day, what with Chris popping in and
out, giving talks to Willow on what being a Glass Walker was all
about, and fussing over the new computer he bought her. Buffy didn't
realize what a bundle of energy the young Garou could be. Then
Nichole showed up for awhile, after having closed the magick store for
the day, to check on her patient. Buffy wasn't sure what she did, or
how she did it, but the upshot of it was that Willow was almost
completely healed after she left.

And unfortunately Giles was little help; playing nursemaid was
apparently not his strong suit, so most of the work had gone to Buffy.

Willow looked at her friend sympathetically. "Sorry I'm being such a
pain."

Buffy waved it away. "Don't be silly, Will!" The Slayer moved from
the chair to sit next to Willow on the bed. "I'm just glad that
you're almost a hundred percent. Better, even, a hundred and ten
percent."

Willow blushed, and dropped her eyes to the bedspread. "That's
mathematically impossible," she said, smiling. "I bet you'll be glad
not to have to play nurse for me anymore."

"Hey," Buffy said, lifting up Willow's chin until she was looking the
hacker in the eyes. "Listen to me, I don't mind, ok? I'm just really
glad that you're ok. That whole thing really gave me a scare, Will.
If something happened to you..." Now it was Buffy's turn to look
away.

Willow stared at Buffy, her eyes taking in every detail -- her
delicate profile; her mouth, so expressive in either sadness or joy;
her eyes... Willow could get lost in her eyes, and often did. She
reached out a tentative hand, and caught a few golden strands of hair
with her fingers. The light caught them, and danced across like
flames. Willow was entranced.

The hacker closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, she
saw Buffy looking at her, her expression a mixture of wonder and
puzzlement. Willow suddenly went red, all the way to her ears. She
cleared her throat, and said, "Well, I think I'd better rest now, I'm
getting a little light-headed, I think it must be the medication..."

Buffy smiled, and stood up to turn off the lights. "Ok, Will," she
said, making her way to the door. "Sleep well." She exited the room,
and shut the door behind her. The Slayer stood there for a moment,
trying to keep her heart from racing. Quietly, to no one in
particular, she said, "You aren't taking medication."

* * *

A short, hunched figure stood outside the door to room 214. He was
rubbing his arms as if he were cold, even though the dorm hallway was
climate controlled and quite warm. He reached out a tentative hand
and knocked. There was no answer, and the figure couldn't smell any
people inside the room either. He sighed.

The figure walked outside, and stood on a bench to try to see inside
the second story room. He couldn't see much, but what he could see
looked pretty much the same as it always did. Jumping off the bench,
he sat down, watching the entrance to Stevenson Hall. He had time.
He could wait.

* * *

Buffy woke up to the sounds, and smells, of breakfast cooking. She
opened an eye experimentally, and from her vantage point on Giles'
couch she saw Willow bustling around the kitchen.

The Slayer stood up, shakily, rubbing her eyes. "Just what do you
think you're doing, young lady?" She asked, stumbling to the kitchen.

"Making breakfast for two of my favorite people in the world...not
counting me, of course," Willow replied, cheerfully.

"Aren't you supposed to be convalescing, or something?" Buffy asked.
She tried to snatch a piece of cooling bacon, but Willow chased her
back with a spatula.

"I feel too good to lay around in bed. As soon as I get the word from
Nichole, the last bandages are coming off." Willow flipped a pancake.
"Could you go wake up Giles, please?"

"Sure... GILES! BREAKFAST!" Buffy yelled. She busied herself with
pouring orange juice. "I didn't know you were so into cooking, Will."

Willow shrugged. "I like cooking, and my mom didn't really seem into
it, so I did a lot of cooking at home. I kinda miss living in a place
without a kitchen." The hacker even hummed a bit as she buttered the
toast.

Buffy raised her eyebrows, impressed. "Gotta say, I'm loving the
positive attitude. You think you'll be up for some combat lessons
later?"

"Sure! A chance to learn all that punching and high-kicking stuff that
you do?" Willow smiled, delighted. "Just go easy on me, ok?"

Buffy chuckled. "_I'm_ not the one who turns into a werewolf. You're
the one who should be going easy on _me_."

* * *

The hunched figure stared at the double doors which were the entrance
to the Stevenson Hall dorm. His eyes burned from fatigue, and he
ignored the curious looks he was getting from passersby. He hadn't
seen her all night, hadn't seen either of them; it could only mean one
thing. They weren't staying here. Not here.

Once that conclusion was reached, the figure rose and began walking
away briskly.

Not here, he thought. Not here.

* * *

"Oof!" Buffy hit the floor, and started rolling. A clawed foot
slammed down onto the floor where her head once was. The Slayer leapt
to her feet and immediately executed a flawless leg sweep, sending her
opponent crashing down to the floor.

"Ohhhhhh..." Willow said, trying to stop the room from spinning. "I
not do well," she said, her long snout having difficulty forming the
words.

Buffy grinned down at her friend. "No, actually you did pretty well
for your first time. You're strong, which is definitely a bonus, and
you've got impressive natural weaponry." She walked around until she
was standing above Willow's head, and then she squatted down so that
she was looking the werewolf right in the eye, albeit upside-down.
"Unfortunately, you're also a bit slow, and you're not sure how to
move. But that's what practice is for."

Willow looked up at Buffy, from her position on the floor. "That good
I think," she said. The werewolf frowned. She discovered that in
Crinos it was very difficult to get her mouth to form words, so she
took to talking in abbreviated sentences.

Buffy stood, and offered Willow a hand up. Willow's clawed paw
engulfed the young woman's hand, but Buffy pulled her up with ease.
"The best thing you could do is to change forms often, and live in
those forms as much as possible. You already know how your body moves
when you're human, you've been doing it for nineteen years. But your
other forms..." Buffy shrugged.

"Yeah, go to movies like this," Willow pointed at herself.

Buffy got a mental image of Willow, in full Crinos form, walking into
a movie theatre...followed immediately by screaming people pouring out
every exit. She giggled. "Um, no, probably not. But the more you
spar in your different forms, the more you'll get used to 'wearing'
them."

The two took up positions facing each other, a few feet separating
them. "Ok," Buffy said, "again."

* * *

To: Gregory Hartwell <ghartwell@hartwelltech.com>
From: Christopher Maxwell <cmaxwell@hartwelltech.com>
Subject: Newest project - Rosenberg
X-Encryption: PGP 6.5.1
Date: February 23, 2000 12:15 PST

Mr. Hartwell,

I am writing to update you on recent events regarding the Lost Cub
Willow Rosenberg.

Contact was made with the Cub at 8:35 PM on 02/21/2000. She had
suffered serious injuries due to a recent fight with two Black Spiral
Dancers, a fight that she would not have survived if it were not for
her companion, a Slayer by the name of Buffy Summers. I will include
my impressions on the Slayer below.

The Cub was taken for emergency medical care to a Child of Gaia
Theurge by the name of Nichole Thompson. Our research did not turn up
the fact that she was in Sunnydale; I believe that adjustments should
be made to ensure that such important intelligence is not overlooked
again. The Theurge was able to call on spirits to aid her in healing
the Cub, and as of this writing, the Cub is completely healed from her
previously grave injuries.

I have begun Glass Walker orientation with the Cub, in preparation for
her coming to Los Angeles to become a full Tribe member, with all
benefits that it entails. She has shown great adeptness for computers
and modern technology, as well as a quick intelligence and a curiosity
to learn about Garou customs.

Her companion, Buffy Summers, is one of the Slayers that we have read
about in Human lore. She is a formidable fighter, which is proved by
the fact that she killed two attacking Black Spiral Dancers, unaided
and unarmed. She is a close friend to Cub Rosenberg, and defends her
from any possible harm. It is my estimation that she should be
cultivated as an ally, since she is already aware of the existence of
Garou, and she can be a formidible ally against the Wyrm.

It is my recommendation that Cub Rosenberg be kept here, in Sunnydale,
until such time as the Black Spiral threat is diminished.

I am investigating the possibility of setting up a Glass Walker
contingent in Sunnydale, to deal with Wyrm activity and potential Lost
Cubs. I would like to ensure that the recent incidents surrounding
Cub Rosenberg do not happen again.

I look forward to your response.

Sincerely,

Christopher Maxwell
Glass Walker Philodox
Vice-President of Software Development, Hartwell Technologies

* * *

To: Christopher Maxwell <cmaxwell@hartwelltech.com>
From: Gregory Hartwell <ghartwell@hartwelltech.com>
Subject: Re: Newest project - Rosenberg
X-Encryption: PGP 6.5.1
Date: February 23, 2000 2:37 PST

Mr. Maxwell,

I read with interest your report on this Lost Cub. I am glad to hear
that she was delivered from the Black Spiral Dancers, and that she is
now recovering nicely.

Her companion troubles me, but if I have your assurance that she is
not Wyrm-tainted, then it will put my fears to rest. I have read many
legends about the Slayer, and that their primary purpose is to destroy
the Wyrm's minions; I trust that this is not myth, but truth.

Continue with your lessons to Cub Rosenberg. Unfortunately, at this
moment, we are involved in a conflict with Environ Oil, both in the
physical world, the financial world, and the spirit world. Their
Wyrm-taint reached farther than any of us realized, perhaps even back
to Pentex itself. Your skills will be missed, and unfortunately we
cannot send you any assistance in your mission. All of our resources,
however, financial and otherwise are at your disposal, as always.

I agree with your position about a Glass Walker contingent in
Sunnydale. Please keep me informed as to the results of your
investigation.

Also keep me posted, Chris, as to when you can bring the Cub back
here, to L.A.

Sincerely,

Gregory Hartwell
Glass Walker Philodox
Sept Leader
Chief Executive Officer, Hartwell Technologies

* * *

Buffy and Willow sat on the couch, watching Giles' little TV. The
Watcher himself had left after dinner to go to the store, muttering
something about werewolves eating him out of house and home. Buffy
pointed out that it was better than werewolves eating him, period, and
he was unable to argue.

Willow was very apologetic about eating so much, but everyone realized
that it was just a matter of her metabolism getting back into shape
from all that healing. When it was all said and done, Buffy and Giles
were very glad to have had Willow healed up in a matter of days for
wounds that, previously, would have taken weeks to heal, if her body
could heal them at all.

So the two friends were stuck at home, watching reruns of some inane
sitcom.

"You know, it never fails," Buffy said, disgustedly. "I've only seen
this show twice, ever, and each time it's the exact same episode."

"I think they plan it that way," Willow said, nodding sympathetically.
"TV schedules do funny things. Like you know that show, 'To Be
Announced'? Well, I've always tried to see what that show is about,
but when I tune in, it's always some other show." She smiled at the
Slayer.

Buffy grinned back. She didn't know what it was, but Willow always
had the ability to cheer her up, to make her forget all the bad things
lurking out there. For a Slayer, whose job was to confront all those
bad things, a friend like Willow was a godsend. "You're amazing, you
know that?" She asked.

"Me, amazing?" Willow said. "Nah, I'm the most unamazing person out
there, pretty normal, pretty boring. Well, except for the werewolf
thing. And the witch thing. And the 'my best friend is a Slayer'
thing." She grinned. "Other than that, I'm stuck solidly in
mediocrity."

"Never," Buffy said softly, her eyes shining. "All those other things
aside, you're exceptionally smart, exceptionally witty, and
exceptionally beautiful."

Willow blushed. "You...you think I'm beautiful?" She tried to look
away, to look down, but couldn't. She was captured by those eyes.

"I do," Buffy replied, slowly inching closer. Her face was a mere few
inches away from Willow's, now, and the gap was closing. "And I ought
to know."

"Why...why is that?" Willow asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"Because I can't stop looking at you," Buffy replied. She licked her
lips slightly and began to lean in, prepared to make vanish those last
few inches that kept her lips from meeting perfection.

And then it happened.

There was a knock at the door.

DAMN! Buffy thought, as both she and Willow froze. I will tear this
person in half if they don't have a good reason for being here, she
thought, viciously. The Slayer stood, and made her way around the
couch to the front door. Opening it, she froze.

"Who is it, Buffy?" Willow called out, from the couch.

Buffy's jaw clenched.

"Oz."

Oz stood on Giles' front step, his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved in the pockets of his dusty leather jacket. "Hi Buffy," he said, in his soft, expressionless way. "Is Willow here?"

Buffy glared at the young man. "Why don't you just go, Oz," she said in a low voice. "Haven't you hurt Willow enough for one lifetime?"

Willow came up behind Buffy, and touched her gently on the arm. "It's ok, Buffy. C'mon in, Oz." Her face was carefully kept neutral, as was her tone.

Oz walked inside, carefully stepping around Buffy, who was still glaring. "I need to talk to you, Will." He afforded Buffy just the barest of glances before he said, "Alone."

Buffy bristled. "There's no way in Hell, Oz..." she began, before Willow intervened.

"It'll be fine," she said, turning to face the Slayer. "Go ahead and go into the back room. I'll call if I need anything."

"But, Will," Buffy protested. "I don't--"

"Buffy, please," Willow interrupted. "I need to do this. Everything will be ok." She brushed a stray strand of hair back from Buffy's forehead, her touch amazingly gentle. "Please do this for me."

The Slayer couldn't refuse. "Ok. If you need anything, yell." With one last glare in Oz's direction, she retreated to the back room.

Willow turned to face Oz. "Why did you come back?" she said, her tone flat. Her eyes were cold, and Oz knew that she wasn't willing to give even an inch.

"I came back for you," he said, looking up at her. His eyes were more expressive than Willow could ever remember seeing, full of pain and sorrow. Willow realized with a start that they were also bloodshot, and underlined with dark circles. A worried look, manifesting as the barest of lines between her eyebrows, began to appear on her face.

"If I were that important to you, you'd have never left in the first place," Willow replied, more harshly than she'd intended.

Oz dropped his eyes, guiltily. "I...I had to get away."

"Away from me."

"Away from everything!" He ran a hand through his hair, irritably. "After what happened with Veruca, I didn't know who I was anymore. I didn't know _what_ I was. All I knew was that I couldn't do that forever. Chained up three nights a month, month after month for the rest of my life. I escaped more times than I care to remember, and I had only been a werewolf for a couple of years! Can you even imagine what I was thinking the rest of my life would be like?"

"I have some idea..." Willow said, softly.

"So I had to get away. See if I could find some cure, or some way to help myself. I knew I couldn't stay around here, and keep hurting the people I loved." Oz looked up at the ceiling, his carefully expressionless facade breaking under the stress.

Willow looked at him with concern. "So where did you go?"

"Lots of places," Oz replied, wiping a hand across his sweating brow. "First to L.A. Thought I could lose myself there, but it was too hard. Too many eyes in the city. I ended up driving out to the desert, all the way to New Mexico. I guess I was on my way east, maybe Texas, or New Orleans. I never got that far, though." His eyes got very distant. "I picked up a hitchhiker in the desert, someone who recognized me as a werewolf. He told me...he told me that they could help me. That I'd never have to be chained up again." Oz swallowed around a lump in his throat.

"And he taught you?" Willow said, quietly.

Oz nodded. "He brought me back to his group, taught me what being a werewolf was all about." Oz met Willow's eyes with an intent gaze. "When I felt I knew enough, I knew I had to come back for you." He moved swiftly, and caught Willow's arm in a firm but gentle grip. "I have to go back soon. Come with me, Willow. Back to the Caern, back to the people who have taught me so much." He pleaded with her now; his voice was earnest and his body started to shake.

Willow shook her head; she was disquieted by the intense look he was giving her. "Oz, I can't. I belong here, there's so much for me to learn here, and so much good I can do. I'm sorry." She dropped her gaze, rather than see the pain in his eyes.

"You can't..." He bit the words off abruptly. "It's Buffy, isn't it?" Willow looked up at him in surprise. His face had hardened to anger, and he spat out the Slayer's name like it was a curse. "She's the reason why you _won't_ come with me."

"No, Oz," Willow said, shaking her head. "That's not the reason. I have things I need to learn here--"

"Forget about Buffy. You have to come with me, Willow. I can't be apart from you any more," Oz said. His hand had been steadily tightening around her wrist until it felt like a vise; it felt like it was burning her, his hand was so hot and feverish.

"Oz, stop," Willow said, trying to pull her arm away from his grasp. This whole thing was too much to handle all at once; first Oz returning, and then this manic need he had to be with her again, she didn't understand it. "Oz, stop, you're hurting me!"

Buffy was at her side in a flash, causing Willow to wonder briefly if she had been listening the whole time. She grabbed Oz's arm, and said fiercely, "Let go or lose it, it's your choice."

The young man was taken aback for a moment, as if he had forgotten she was there. He stared at her, bloodshot eyes meeting a cold gaze which told him she meant business -- and then some. He dropped his gaze and let go of Willow's arm.

"I think you'd better leave. Now," Buffy said, already steering him toward the door.

Instead of answering, Oz just looked Willow in the eyes. "I'll come back for you, Will. We're meant to be together. You know that."

Buffy didn't wait for her answer. She pushed him outside, not at all gently, and shut the door. Looking back at Willow, she noticed the redhead rubbing the arm that Oz had held. "You ok, Will?"

Willow sighed raggedly. A brief glance at the clock told her that the entire exchange had taken just under ten minutes. Ten minutes, she thought, it felt like ten hours. She smiled at Buffy, and said, "Yeah, I guess I'm ok. I think he just bruised me." She looked down at the red marks on her arm from his grip.

Buffy looked at the marks and frowned. Stepping forward, she lifted Willow's arm so she could see the bruise in a better light. "Will, these aren't bruises. These are burns."

* * *

Oz walked away from the welcoming light streaming out of the windows where Willow was staying. There'd be another time. The Slayer couldn't be around all the time. And then he'd make her see. He'd make her see how much he loved her, how much they were meant to be together. She already knew; she just didn't want to admit it. He'd make her see.

* * *

Buffy spread some burn salve on Willow's arm. Things between them had been subdued, to say the least, after the incident with Oz. I guess she doesn't feel like talking much, Buffy thought. Though, I can't say as I blame her.

Willow, meanwhile, had been having a hard time focusing her thoughts. Things had finally started looking up for her; sure, she had some strange stuff to deal with lately, but it was all going really well. She made two great friends, both of whom were teaching her new stuff about who she was and what she could do. And Buffy, who never liked to leave her side, was teaching her how to defend herself. And...she was teaching her something else, too, Willow realized. About what best friends mean to one another. About how deep their feelings for each other really seem to go. It was nice, and something that Willow certainly wouldn't mind looking into further.

And then...Oz. Like a bolt out of the blue, he showed up just as quickly as he had left before -- with no warning, no regard for her feelings. She had loved him once, as deeply as she thought it was possible to love someone. But when he showed up, she didn't feel that same, familiar heartache. She hoped they could be friends, but...

"All done," Buffy said, re-capping the salve jar. "By tomorrow, that should look a lot better."

"I still don't know why it happened in the first place," Willow said, worriedly. "I mean, his hand felt hot, like he was running a fever, but..." She shrugged.

Buffy looked at her friend sympathetically. "Well, maybe it's some kind of werewolf thing. We can ask Nichole about it tomorrow morning, when she and Chris stop by."

Willow jumped at the change of subject, grateful for the opportunity to lighten the mood. "What's the deal with those two, anyway?"

Buffy grinned. "Well, it sure looks like they love each other. I've been subtly trying to get them to realize it, but it looks like they're more interested in fighting."

Willow gave Buffy a worried look. "But...they're both Garou. I don't think they're supposed to fall in love with each other."

"Why not?" Buffy asked, puzzled. "Is it the whole two different tribes, Romeo-and-Juliet thing? That's been done to death. No pun intended."

"No," Willow said, "I think there's some rule about Garou not...you know... 'mating' with other Garou."

"Hmm." Buffy looked thoughtful. "Well, I've never been keen on the rules anyway. We'll see what happens. Now, young lady," Buffy said, steering Willow toward the back room, "You should get to bed. Long day tomorrow."

Willow smiled at Buffy, a smile which didn't touch the sadness in her eyes. "Um, Buffy? Could I ask you a favor?"

"Sure, Will, anything."

"Could you stay with me tonight? That whole thing...it kinda shook me up. I'd rather not be alone." Willow blushed, although whether it was from embarrassment at her weakness, or excitement, she wasn't sure.

Buffy threw an arm around Willow's shoulders. "Sure, Will. I think I can do that."

* * *

Nichole knocked on Giles' door promptly at eight o'clock the next morning. Giles answered, holding a steaming cup of tea. "Oh, hello Nichole, hello Christopher. Won't you come in?" He stepped back, and allowed the two Garou to enter.

"Hello, Giles. Is the patient up yet?" Nichole asked, cheerfully.

"Well, no, she isn't. I was about to check on her in a few minutes, make sure everything is all right. I'm not sure where Buffy is, perhaps she had an early errand to run."

"Ok, well, I'd better wake her up," Nichole said, heading off for the back room.

Chris sniffed. "Is that coffee?"

Giles frowned, and looked at his cup. "No, it's tea."

"Could it be coffee?"

Giles sighed, and went to the kitchen to brew a pot.

* * *

Buffy woke up to the sound of voices in the living room. She looked around groggily, taking stock of her surroundings. Ok, window, bed, door, Willow lying with her head resting on my shoulder...

What?

She looked down at the peacefully sleeping form, and remembered the events of the previous night. All-in-all, it hadn't turned out too bad, she thought, smiling. She heard the door open slowly, and saw Nichole poke her head in. One look at the sleeping couple, and Nichole was grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

Buffy frowned, and motioned Nichole out of the room with mock ferocity. "We'll be right out," she whispered, and was relieved when Nichole nodded and shut the door.

Buffy looked down at Willow. She hated to disturb her, but some things couldn't wait. "Hey, sleepyhead," she said, giving the redhead a gentle shake.

Willow groaned sleepily, and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "Wha' 'me 's 't?" She asked...sort of.

"Eight o'clock." Buffy smiled. "Time to get up, Nichole and Chris are here."

Willow let out a tremendous yawn, and snuggled down onto Buffy's shoulder. "Don't wanna."

Ah, you're killing me here, Red, Buffy thought. Out loud, she said, "As much as I hate to say it, and believe me I do, it is time to get up. C'mon, we can do this more tonight."

"Promise?" Willow looked up at Buffy, an eagerness in her eyes that went straight to Buffy's heart and lodged there, firmly.

"Promise," Buffy answered, somewhat breathlessly.

"Ok, then," Willow said, jumping up out of bed. "I get first dibs on the bathroom!"

Buffy stared after Willow for a moment, and then groaned and covered her eyes with both hands. Shaking her head slightly, she whispered, "Oh yeah, you're definitely killing me, here."

* * *

Several minutes later, both young women emerged from the back and greeted Giles, Chris, and Nichole. Nichole was smirking, Buffy noticed, but it was a pleased, happy smirk. The Slayer shook her head. Weird.

"Well, I'm glad to see you two look so...well rested," Nichole said, barely suppressing a smile.

"Yes, there is something we are and it's well rested," Buffy responded, pouring some orange juice for Willow and herself. If Nichole could play this game, so can I, she thought.

Nichole decided to let it go for the moment. Turning to Willow, she said, "How are you feeling today?"

"Good." Willow pressed against the wounds which were now just fading scars. "Seems like everything healed up just fine."

"Glad to hear it," Nichole said, walking over. She pressed against Willow's side to make sure the wounds had healed internally, as well as externally. Nodding in satisfaction, she said, "I see no reason not to give you a clean bill of heal--" She cut herself off, staring down at Willow's burned arm. "What's that?"

Willow followed her gaze, and lifted her arm a little. "Oh, that. I just got a little burn last night..."

Nichole grabbed her arm, and looked at it more closely. "How did this happen?" Her voice was tightly controlled, but rage burned in her eyes.

"It's a long story," Willow said, bewildered at the peaceful Garou's reaction. "Why?"

"You'd better tell me," Nichole said. "This burn is Wyrm-tainted."

Willow looked as if she had been struck. "Wha...No, that's not possible." She looked at Buffy for support, and Buffy just looked back at her, sadly.

"How did this happen, Willow?" Nichole asked, her voice deathly quiet.

"It...it was Oz, my ex-boyfriend." She felt numb, and stared at the burn as if she could make it disappear through willpower alone.

"What happened?" Nichole asked, looking to Buffy for help.

"Oz showed up last night," Buffy began, in a hushed voice. "He had been gone for a long time, he was off trying to deal with his werewolf side, and yesterday he showed up on the doorstep. He and Willow talked for a while, and then I heard Willow calling out that he was hurting her. I ran out here, and he had grabbed her forearm and was holding onto it. So I got him to let go, and threw him out."

"If he's Wyrm-tainted..." Chris trailed off, ominously.

"No!" Willow yelled, snatching her arm from Nichole's grasp. "He's not a bad person! He was just confused, he just needed help... He said he met someone, a hitchhiker in the New Mexico desert. That person took him back to some place called Caern, where he taught him how to control the change." Just like you taught me, Willow thought silently.

"_A_ Caern," Nichole corrected, gently. "A place of spiritual power." She and Chris exchanged glances. "Only two tribes have Caerns in that area: Wendigo, who do not allow any non-Native Americans to join their tribe, and..."

"And Black Spiral Dancers," Chris finished.

"We've got to help him," Willow said, eyes filling with tears. "We can't just let him go on with them, we've got to find some way to help him."

Nichole looked at Willow, compassion and sadness evident in her eyes. "Willow," she said quietly, "there's only one way to help him, and that's to free him from his torment. Release him from this life, so he can go on to the next."

"You mean kill him," Willow said, flatly. She wiped her eyes, and stared at Nichole angrily. "I can't do that, and I won't let you do it, either."

Buffy stepped forward. "Will, we can't let him go if he's going to go on to hurt other people..."

"He won't," Willow said, drawing back. "He's not a bad person, he was just confused. There's got to be a cure." She looked at Chris, and pointed a finger at him accusingly. "You said that Garou can renounce their tribe. Choose another one. Well, we'll just give him the chance to do that."

Chris shook his head. "Willow, it isn't that easy in this case. When a werewolf becomes a Black Spiral, voluntarily or not, they're forced to go through a ritual which breaks their mind. It makes them insane, and makes them _want_ to serve the Wyrm. Even if we could get through to him, he wouldn't want to change tribes, and his Wyrm-taint is so great that no tribe would have him anyway."

"So are you going to kill me?" Willow asked, brokenly. She held up her burned arm. "I have Wyrm-taint on me, too."

"No," Chris replied slowly, "We can cure that."

"So why can't you cure Oz?" Willow was starting to shake now, but whether it was from remorse, fear, or anger no one could tell.

"Because there's no way to remove the Wyrm-taint from a Black Spiral Dancer," Chris replied, losing his patience. "Even if we wanted to, we just can't cure them!"

"We can't," Nichole interrupted, softly. "But there might be beings that can."

Chris looked at Nichole, sharply. "That's insane, you're talking about..." He threw his hands up in the air in disgust.

"I'm talking about the Gurahl," Nichole finished.

Willow looked from Nichole, to Chris, and back again. "You know someone who can help us?"

Nichole shrugged. "I don't know, but if anyone can, they can."

"This is ludicrous!" Chris exclaimed. "Even if we can _find_ a Gurahl, and even if we can get them to talk to us, there's no guarantee that they'll actually help us."

Buffy looked at the Garou, puzzled by the conversation. "What's a Gurahl?"

Nichole sighed. "Everyone should take a seat. This is a long story."

* * *

"A long time ago, long before the Wyrm was corrupted, all beings lived in peace with one another. There were many different kinds of were-folk back then. The Garou, or werewolves, were not the only members of the Changing Breeds; many other races straddled the line between animal and human.

"There were the Nuwisha, or Werecoyotes. Tricksters all, they forced us to question our ways through the use of pranks and practical jokes.

"There were the Corax, or Wereravens. They were the spies and messengers of the Changing Breeds.

"There were the Bastet, or Werecats. As cats do, they watch and protect, and have an insatiable curiosity for knowledge and secrets.

"There were the Ratkin, or Wererats. They were the shepherds of mankind, both protecting the cities from the Wyrm, and holding check on the human population to make sure it didn't get out of control.

"There were the Moloke, or Werealligators. They protected the swamps and deepest jungles from harm.

"There were the Rokea, or Weresharks. As the Moloke did in the swamps, the Rokea protected the deep oceans from harm.

"There were the Anasasi, or Werespiders. Servants of the Weaver, they were the builders of the Changing Breeds.

"And there were the Gurahl, or Werebears. Perhaps the Changing Breed that was closest to Gaia, the Gurahl were peaceful folk who grew adept at healing the land, the other Breeds, and each other. Their skill grew so great that it was said that they knew the secrets of life and death, and could raise creatures from the dead using their Spirit Gifts.

"There were many other Changing Breeds as well, and all lived together in peace.

"Then the Wyrm became Corrupted, and began sending His minions out to destroy life, to bring it under His dominion. The Changing Breeds worked together for awhile, and enjoyed great success in their fight against the Wyrm. The Garou were Gaia's warriors, the Corax were Her spies, the Bastet were Her guardians, and the Gurahl were Her healers.

"And then came the War of Rage.

"Few know how it started. Legend has it that the Garou, particularly the Silver Fang Tribe which ruled over the others, demanded that the other were-breeds bow to them, and obey their orders in the war against the Wyrm. After all, the Garou were Gaia's chosen warriors, it seemed only right that the other breeds obey.

"But they didn't see it that way, of course. The other breeds refused, and the Garou, believing that if the other breeds turned against them they must be allies with the Wyrm, began to war against the other were-folk.

"It was our darkest time. We lost many of the advantages and gifts that we had received from our peaceful co-existence with the other breeds, and many innocent were-folk on all sides were needlessly slaughtered. All because the Garou could not contain their Rage, nor their vanity."

* * *

Nichole fell silent; the others sat stock-still. Finally, Buffy broke the silence. "I guess the Garou haven't always been the happy-go-lucky pups you are now, huh?"

Chris snorted. "Still aren't. There are still a lot of us that can think of nothing else than building up their own renown, or capturing power however they can, even if it means flirting dangerously close to the Wyrm. The Garou have made a lot of stupid moves over the years, and the War of Rage was just one of them."

"So these Gurahl, these werebears, can help us?" Willow said, quietly.

Nichole shrugged. "It's possible. After the War of Rage, the Gurahl withdrew from the world, hiding themselves away in remote locations where they wouldn't be bothered by man or Garou. They are peaceful, though, and I doubt they would hurt you if you went looking for one. I can't tell if they'd help you or not, but they probably wouldn't hurt you."

"Forget it." Chris shook his head, vehemently. "There's no way. Willow is far too young and untested a pup to go searching for a Gurahl. And what if the Black Spiral comes back? Are we supposed to tell him, 'Oh, just take a seat there, Willow will be back shortly to make everything better.' He'll try to kill us. The only thing we can do is put him down--"

"Listen, you bastard," Willow said, teeth clenched. "You're talking about my friend, the person who at one time I was in love with. If there's anything at all I can do to help him, I'm going to do it. And if you try to stop me, it will be _your_ tribe that I'm going to renounce." Ignoring Chris's shocked look, she sat back, arms folded across her chest.

Nichole stepped between the two before Chris's Rage could kick in. "Ok, listen. Chris, you know as well as I do that every pup has to undergo a quest before they receive the Rite of Passage and become a full member of the tribe. I can't think of a better or more useful quest right now, to be perfectly honest."

Chris opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. He couldn't argue with the truthfulness of her words.

Nichole relaxed a bit. "I can speak with the Wyld-spirits in the area, see if I can get a general location on the closest Gurahl. After that, it will be up to Willow." She turned to face the young redhead. "Generally, the quest is given to an entire pack of Garou, but you are just one lone person. I don't think it's unreasonable for you to take at least one other person with you, for assistance." She shot Chris a look, but the Glass Walker just nodded.

Willow glanced at her best friend. "Buffy?"

Buffy nodded immediately. "I'd go anywhere with you, Will." She glanced over at Giles. "Think you could handle patrol for a couple weeks?"

"I think so, yes," Giles answered. "I'll get Xander and Spike to help me."

"Well, then, it's settled," Nichole said, with some satisfaction.

"Not so fast," Chris said, sourly. "What happens if laughing boy shows up?"

"We're going to have to capture him until we return," Buffy said, matter-of-factly. "How do you deal with prisoners among your kind? I'm assuming you don't kill them _all_."

Chris gave Buffy a sarcastic look. "We use a fetish, which is a magical talisman that has had a spirit bound within it. It's a pair of manacles which traps the wearer in Homid form, making him both weaker and easier to manage. I could, presumably, have a pair here by tomorrow morning if I tell them to FedEx it Priority."

"Modern technology, gotta love it," Buffy remarked. "Ok, then, sounds like we've all got a plan."

* * *

Buffy sighed, closing the door behind Nichole after she left. "Well, that was a lot of fun," she remarked.

Willow smiled crookedly, rubbing a pink spot on her arm. That was the only evidence left that there had once been a bad burn there; Nichole had healed the Wyrm-taint, and new skin began to grow in its place.

"Will, I gotta ask you," Buffy said, slowly walking toward her friend. "This whole thing with Oz...Is it really worth it?"

"Don't, Buffy." Willow shook her head. "You of all people should understand. Oz is our friend..."

"Yeah, but he's evil now. He doesn't even remember our friendship, or he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be helped, and we may not even be able to help him."

"Maybe we can't," Willow said, earnestly. "But we can't sit here and do nothing. He needs our help whether he asks for it or not... Whether he knows it or not."

"But, Will, we may have no choice--"

"If we don't have a choice, then we'll kill him!" Willow said, looking Buffy in the eye, her expression angry. "Or have you forgotten Angel? We didn't stop looking for a way to give him back his soul, even though we thought maybe it wasn't possible. Even though he killed the people we loved, and sent some of us to the hospital."

Buffy winced, Willow's harsh words opening up old wounds. She dropped her head, and said quietly, "I know, Will. I'm the one who tried to kill him, who sent him to Hell even after he got his soul back, remember?" She turned abruptly and walked to the window, looking out on the sunlit lawn beyond, her expression unreadable.

Oh, God, Willow thought, that was uncalled for. She walked up behind the Slayer, and gently rested her hands on Buffy's shoulders. Her friend immediately stiffened under her touch. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I...I didn't mean for it to sound like that. I'm scared." Her head drooped, and she rested her forehead against Buffy's shoulder. "A part of me wishes that Oz hadn't come back, that I could go on thinking he was ok, that he was just out there, somewhere, doing his own thing. But he did come back, and I have to help him. I don't love him anymore, but he is a part of my life, and rightly or wrongly I feel some responsibility."

Buffy turned and wrapped her arms around Willow, drawing her into a close hug. The redhead, not expecting this act of forgiveness, of love, began crying with relief. Shoulders shaking, she allowed Buffy to tighten her grip around her.

"Shhh, it's ok, Will," Buffy said, quietly. "I understand. And don't worry, I'll help you no matter what happens."

Willow smiled, and wrapped her arms around the Slayer. "Thank you," she whispered.

Buffy kissed the top of Willow's head, and said, "Guess we got some planning to do, huh? I'm not sure what to pack, I've never been the outdoorsy type." She moved one hand up under Willow's chin and lifted her head up so she could see her face. Gently brushing away her tears, Buffy swallowed around the lump in her throat that had formed from seeing her friend's beautiful, tear-stained face.

Willow looked up and met Buffy's eyes with her own. Those eyes... they mesmerized her, made it impossible for her to feel sad, or alone. They were eyes that said, you have nothing to fear, I'll always be here for you. "You always support me, Buffy," she whispered. "Even though I don't always deserve it. You've always been there for me." She reached up a tentative hand, to cup Buffy's cheek. Buffy's eyelids closed slowly, and the Slayer leaned into the caress. "I love you, Buffy."

Buffy opened her eyes, and looked down at her best friend, the person she loved more than any other. "I love you too, Willow." Whether she leaned down or Willow reached up, no one could tell, but at that moment their lips met.

The kiss was gentle and tentative, as if neither one were sure that this is what the other wanted. Willow brought her hands up, cupping the back of Buffy's head, deepening the kiss. Buffy, in turn, brought her arms around Willow's waist, holding her closely to her. Long moments went by, moments where nothing else in the world existed for the pair except each other.

Finally, they broke the kiss. Foreheads touching, each young woman noticed the labored breathing of the other. As one, they smiled. Speech became unnecessary, and superfluous.

Willow took Buffy's hands in her own, led her into the back bedroom, and closed the door.

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